


Invasion

by MsMockingbird



Series: The Mockingverse [17]
Category: Hawkeye (Marvel) - Fandom, Mockingbird (Marvel) - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Invasion, F/M, Kree, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-07-19 17:19:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsMockingbird/pseuds/MsMockingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers thought they had more time before the Kree -- lead by Ronan the Accuser -- came to take Earth.</p><p>Time's up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline notes: In the Mockingverse, Guardians of the Galaxy SORTA happened. Think of it as almost the same situation but Ronan doesn't die at the end.

At two PM Clint entered the darkened main bedroom of The Nest like he was there to steal something. He was.   
    
Sprawled on her back, across more space than one woman should be able to take, his wife Bobbi slept half under and half tangled in just a single sheet. His preternaturally sharp eyes also gifted him with astonishing low-light vision and he automatically tracked up the smooth line of her exposed thigh, along the swell of one generous breast to the curve of her neck. Her truncated ear, the top ridged with scar tissue where a Hand ninja had sliced it off peeked out of her golden hair. He had kicked off his shoes in the atrium and now padded silently across the plush carpet to kneel at the side of the bed closest to her face.   
    
In the next breath, she opened her eyes and smiled at him sleepily. "You smell good. All sweaty and Clint-y."   
    
Clint leaned in and stole a kiss, her lips warm and soft against his. When he settled back on his heels, he grinned. "I slept with a woman once, years ago, who thought it was gross when I was sweaty."   
    
"Mmmmm, warm clean healthy male sweat is like...perfume. You smell like bow oil and earth and musk and Clint."   
    
"And that's all good?"   
    
"It's lovely. It makes me feel happy and safe and horny," she grinned at him, waking up a little with every word.   
    
He stroked a hand down her face. "How'd PT go?"   
    
Unconsciously her hand strayed down to her torso, the sheet slipping off to show the puckered skin around four puncture wounds spaced across her front. They were matched by four on her back;three thick stripes marked her left thigh as well. Three months ago, just before Christmas, she had fought a desperate battle with the X-Man Wolverine while he was mind controlled by an alien parasite called the Brood. He had been forced to try and kill her but had held back enough that a rescue effort had been successful. Then the Avengers had come and rescued the X-Men in turn.   
    
But Bobbi-Mockingbird--had spent a month on the hospital floor and was still in deep rehab on the DL list.   
    
Now she scrunched up her face at him. "Good. Danny and I hung out for a bit and chatted. He's really worried about the whole alien invasion thing."   
    
"Me too," Clint said with a sigh and stood up. He stripped his shirt off and started towards the door of the bathroom.   
    
"Clint, I went in for a check-up with Doc Cho after I got back from Thunder Dojo. She's getting more and more suspicious about the 'Physical Therapy' but she said I'm healing remarkably fast. So I asked her if we could have sex again--"   
    
Clint froze in place, every line of his body tense. He seemed frightened to turn around.   
    
"And I quote: 'Nothing athletic. Nothing kinky. No pressure on your core. But it's better than prescribing Hawkeye anti-depressants so I'll give the okay. You mess up my work and I'm telling Captain America why and how'."   
    
Clint was back by the bed so fast he might have teleported. The longest they'd gone since their marriage without some kind of sexual contact, even just mutual masturbation or video sex, was two weeks. They'd been unable to do much of anything for almost three months now: Bobbi was either too weak, in too much pain, recovering from surgery or he was out of the Tower trying to deal with the team being down their most versatile member. He'd had a crying breakdown over the current situation in Natasha's apartment last week.   
    
"I owe Danny for this, don't I?" he whispered, as he fumbled at his pants, dragging them off so fast he ripped the zipper.   
    
"You're just lucky Shou-Lao the Undying finds me worthy," Bobbi grinned, throwing the sheet off to reveal her naked body like a magician producing a rabbit.   
    
*****   
    
Clint put his hand down on Bobbi's shoulder when she tried to get out of the wheelchair at the front door of the Thunder Dojo in Harlem. The door opened and Danny Rand slide out into the thin winter sunshine. He was steaming with sweat in the cold air, dressed in a ratty sleeveless T-shirt and battered grey sweatpants. He grinned at them, broad and infectious and without saying anything reached out to grab the right side of her chair. Clint hoisted the other side and the two blond men--superficially similar in appearance but worlds apart the more you studied them--carried both the wheelchair and the woman riding it up the steep flight of stairs as though she was a bouquet of flowers.   
    
"Elevator's not working yet," Rand said cheerfully. "I just couldn't wait on the renos to open the gym."   
    
"This is a good thing you're doing Danny," Bobbi said in a soft voice. Her lungs and diaphragm were still a source of great pain for her so she spoke little and breathed shallowly. She looked pale and thin, barely a month and a half from nearly dying.   
    
They put her down on the gleaming wooden floor ringing the thick heavy duty wrestling mats that took up 2/3 of the huge second floor space. The room was dotted with martial arts equipment, grappling dummies, a boxing ring, weights, punching bags, racks for gloves and training pads. Everything look either brand new or well worn and much loved. Danny gestured to a set of wide French doors in one wall, which lead to a dimly light office. A thick curtain was drawn across one section of the room.   
    
Rand leaned on a battered wood desk and smiled, absently stroking a towel across his face and neck. He'd clearly been working out when they arrived. "Well, it was about damn time I stopped acting like a spoiled brat and started using the money my dad left me for good. When we're up and running, I'm going to hit all of you up for classes." The Thunder Dojo was intended as the cornerstone of a community center, funded by Rand International, to provide free martial arts training to underprivileged children. There were already plans for a teaching cafeteria, a library and health clinic. But Danny's dojo was a labour of love and no one could blame him for starting there. Have Luke Cage on his side had pacified a lot of the local fears that he was starting some sort of gentrification.   
    
Clint glanced back at the gym space. "We've got portable targets I can bring if you want me to do some archery for you."   
    
"Hell yeah, my man," Rand laughed. "Think Cap'd be in for a boxing seminar?"   
    
"His technique is a little archaic," Bobbi whispered but she was smiling.   
    
Rand focused on her, dropping to one knee. "How you feeling Barbarella?" His voice was tender and warm and his plain friendly face was openly concerned.   
    
Bobbi shook her head. "Like I was nearly gutted and bled out, how'er you Daniel?"   
    
"Hoping I can help." He looked up, over her head, to where Clint loomed over them both. Danny shared his colouring, but he was slimmer and shorter than the archer, as the archer was slighter than Steve and Steve was slighter than Thor. Putting them shirtless in a line was like looking at a group of really ripped nesting dolls. The two men nodded at each other. Bobbi cocked her head quizzically.   
    
"I have to ask you both not to talk about this, not even to Steve. What I'm going to tell you, what I might be able to show you. It's skating on the edge of big trouble just to have suggested this and if you weren't who you were--it would never be allowed.  The only reason I'm even thinking there's a ghost of a chance is because you've been touched by magic before. You already believe."   
    
"Danny, what?"   
    
"If you consent, I'd like to call on the chi of the Fiery Dragon, Shou-Lao the Undying to help heal you." Rand said the fantastic words calmly, flatly, with perfect sincerity.   
    
Bobbi sucked in her breath. "Like completely? The way Frigga did?"   
    
"No. I can't...I don't think so. But I can...um...this is hard to explain...I can encourage your own healing chi, through contact with the Dragon's Fire, to concentrate on repairing the damage. Shou-Lao only comes to warriors, to heal wounds gotten in honourable battle and I think you qualify. But it'll hurt--maybe a lot--and the Dragon's kind of an asshole. He might just decide not to help at all. So, I don't want to get your hopes up."   
    
But that hope had already lit Bobbi's face from within like a candle.   
    
"Let's try. What do I do?"   
    
"Can you sit really still in silence for a while?"   
    
"Oh, well, that's out then," Clint interjected. 

"Danny, hit him for me."

Iron Fist grinned, shaking his head. "You go wait outside, Barton. If anyone shows up, tell'em I'm busy. Be at least an hour."

"Hmm, I don't know about leaving you alone with my woman like that Rand--"

"Danny, rip his head off for me."

About two hours later, Danny Rand opened the curtained doors to his darkened office and gestured Hawkeye inside. On the wooden floor, surrounded by a circle of candles and incense, Bobbi lay on her back, sleeping soundly.

"Damn, didn't work?" Clint said ruefully.

"No, worked perfectly. The Undying Dragon finds her worthy; she'll heal at an accelerated rate for days now." Rand said in a vague voice, then staggered. Clint helped him to his chair. He looked like a ghost in the low fire light, his limbs weak and shaky. "Sorry, sorry. This is why--I feel like such a rat not offering this to everyone but I can't---it takes as much out of me as sparring Hulk, Thor and Wolverine would. I'm sorry." He groaned. "Can you grab me a sports drink from the cooler?"

Between gulps of electrolyte laden sugar water, Rand explained. "She's going to sleep for hours probably and you need that time to prepare. Buy _all the food_ ; I know she's on a mostly liquid diet still but get stuff that's high calorie, lots of protein and micro-nutrients. She's going to eat like a starving T Rex when she wakes up. Give me time to recover and we'll go again. After a while we'll be able to have a couple of sessions a week." 

Clint reached out and clasped his hand, putting a world of gratitude and respect in the gesture. "You going to be okay? I don't want to leave if you're going to pass out."

"I texted Misty. She'll be here in a minute; she'll take care of me. You go look after Mockingbird."

Clint left the wheelchair in the dojo, carrying his sleeping wife down to the car with her head on his shoulder. Outside, he waited until he saw Misty Knight stalking up the street, her head high, her carriage proud and powerful. She nodded at him, a tiny smile on her face, and he saluted her.

Then he took Bobbi home, laid her on the bed, made food arrangements with Jarvis and just sat on the mattress, her head in his lap, crying silent tears of relief until she woke up.

Stark brought up the sudden spike in food bills at the next team meeting. Clint declined to explain. 

*****

They experimented a bit and eventually settled on Clint slightly on his back, propped up with pillows and Bobbi draped over him like a blanket. It was slow, soft, gentle sex...not something they indulged in often but after the months long drought they were both shaking and hysterical after a couple of minutes. Clint couldn't keep his fingers from tracing the puckered bullet wound-like scars of her injuries, marvelling that she had survived. 

Bobbi just moulded herself against him like she was trying to make them into one person, her hips pumping in little bursts as the internal pressure built. 

She cried when she climaxed and he kissed the tears away as his own orgasmed crested and broke. 

"Thank you," he whispered. "For not leaving me. None of the times you could have."

Bobbi smiled through wet lashes. "I'm no quitter, sport."

They fell asleep cuddled under the sheets after several similar sessions, exhausted and content. 

And were woken up by a blaring siren splitting the air.

Clint was up and out of the bed, his tac suit half on before he really woke up. Bobbi moved slower but she had her Mockingbird costume in her hand before he grabbed her arm.

"What the hell--" he yelled over the siren, which suddenly cut out, leaving him shouting into the silence for a breath "--is that? It's not the regular alarm."

"No, it's...it's early. It's like six months early," she gasped, scrabbling for and dropping underwear before sitting down on the bed to put it on. "It's...oh, gods Clint. It's them. It's the proximity alarm from out past Charon and Pluto, the ones Tony sent two months ago."

She stared at him, her eyes wide with fear.

"It's the Kree Invasion Fleet. They're here."

 

    
    
    
    
    
    
 


	2. (Dis)United Nations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone must have betrayed Earth to the Avengers. So many people to chose from.

The conference room was in chaos when Bobbi and Clint charged in, both dressed in their combat gear. Thor was missing—he was in Scandanavia with Jane, though he’d be headed back now, of course. Tony looked like he’d been woken up too, though it was only early evening. Natasha was sitting very still reading something rapidly from her Starktab screen, Sam reading over her shoulder. Bruce was staring into space, zoned out, his face set into an expression of intense worry.

The majority of the chaos was coming from a conversation between Abigail Brand of SWORD and Steve Rogers via the main view screen. Well, it was less a conversation than an increasingly agitated monologue from Brand about how what Stark’s sensors were picking up was impossible, all their intell showed that the Kree wouldn’t even be able to _start_ an invasion for several more months it must be a mistake…

As the Bartons skidded into the room Captain America threw his head back and shouted. “Agent Brand! SWORD has been infiltrated!”

The whole room went silent and on the screen the green-haired woman in sunglasses stopped dead. Steve shouting had that effect on people. Brand pursed her lips and nodded.

“I know. It’s the only explanation for all of this, the Brood being on Terra, everything. But…Captain…I…I’ve worked with everyone in the organization since the day it started. This is a hard thing to think.”

Steve shook his head. “We don’t have time for a witch hunt; we’ll deal with your personale later. How long will it take the fleet to get here?”

Tony piped up. “Couple days maybe. They’re moving fast. It’s only one ship, by the way.”

“That’ll be Ronan’s personal vessel, the Dark Aster then,” Bobbi said. “Insulting.”

Steve looked around and nodded at the Bartons. “Bobbi, are you up to date with everything SWORD has on the Kree and Ronan the Accuser?”

She slid into her usual seat firmly. “Yes, but like you just said, they must have been infiltrated so I don’t know how reliable it all is.”

Brand opened her mouth and shut it again, looking small and deflated. 

Steve shook his head again. “Agent Brand, you can contact us directly with any new info, and we’ll feed public intell to you but at this point I am severing data links between Jarvis and your computers. Quarantine the Peak. No one on or off, no transmissions, nothing. When this is over we’ll either know who your traitor is or it won’t matter.”

“Yes. Fine. God fucking damn it.” Brand cursed and slammed her hand down on her desk top. Her image cut out.

Tony looked up from his computer. “I’ve got every firewall possible activated on every system we have. I keep most of my—our—tech close to the chest anyway but if someone at the Peak was feeding the Kree intell they’ll know who we all are and the capabilities of say, the Quinjets and some of our personal weapons.”

“We’re not going to survive this with just tech, Tony, but good work. Thank you. Natasha, anything on the communications?’

“Back ground chatter I think,” the red-head squinted at her screen again. “Bobbi, how’s your Kree?”

“Ass, but play it.”

Natasha flicked her hand at the main screen. A sound wave graph appeared and an open channel kicked in. There was a lot of static, a regular pulsing noise in the background and voices speaking in a harsh langauge, with glottal noises that were achingly alien, short bursts of speech.

Mockingbird cocked her head, closing her eyes. Her lips moved once or twice then she looked up.

“It…navigation data I think. I can only hear one or two words. Nothing significant. Or fuck, it could be their whole battle plan. I don’t speak enough to be able to tell. Carol might—I stress might—be able to tell you more.”

Captain America nodded his thanks to her, then looked at her closer. He took in her tactical suit, her batons, her goggles and narrowed his eyes. She stared back at him defiantly. The moment passed in silence and he took the thread of the conversation back up.

“What do we know about Ronan?”

“He’s a self-described fanatic, believes the Kree are the master race of the universe. He’s not officially sanctioned by the Kree government like the privateers during the Revolutionary War weren’t sanctioned. They know exactly what he’s doing and why. He’s physically powerful and an inspiring leader, apparently. He’s collected a large honor guard of extremists and true-believers, all with special abilities. Like us if Cap decided to become a fascist dictator.” She grinned at Steve for a moment. “Most of his troops with be Sakaaran janissaries—slave soldiers used as cannon fodder. His commanders, troop leaders and inner circle will all be true-born Kree. He does not negotiate but he might be willing to talk to the ‘vermin’ he’s come to conquer. He gets off on public submission apparently.”

Steve turned to Tony. “What kind of weapons are we facing?”

Tony got that far-away look that came over him when he was head-down into something engineering-wise. “Practical energy weapons, from what I’ve pulled out of the database at SWORD. Roughly parallel to my tech, actually. Power systems are almost identical. They have cloaking technology—”

“So they wanted to be seen on the way in then,” Sam Wilson interjected. “They wanted us to know they’re coming.”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded. “Advanced tech in general. They use cybernetic and genetic enhancements on themselves. I can’t help with the second part.”

“Not the Sakaarans ,” Bobbi said. “Just the inner circle.”

“Do we know who that is at the moment?” Steve asked.

Natasha shook her head. “Not entirely. Something happened a few of our years back; his chief lieutenants either betrayed him or just took off. There’s a power vaccuum in his command structure, which actually might explain why he’s attacking Earth. It’s public relations. He looked weak; a new planet for the empire re-establishes his reputation.”

“Like Earth is cheap real estate he can flip,” Clint muttered.

Natasha continued. “We’re sure of Tanalth and Korath from the Kree Pursuer corps. His primary war leader will be Galen-Kor—all the reports we have on him are ‘big, dumb, really really strong’. We think other than that Yon-Rogg will be there because he wants a grudge match with Captain Marvel. He’ll bring his personal subordinate Phyla-Vell because she duplicates Carol’s powers.”

Bobbi shook her head. “She’s a light-skinned Kree. Looks human. That’s not going to sit well with the others, racist pricks that they all are.”

Natasha nodded. “What chatter we could pick up and translate on their intelligence network indicates they see the Avengers as their primary threat. They will come at us first, after whatever hollow show of diplomacy Ronan might want to tap dance through.”

Steve stood very still for a bit, then looked up. He caught each of their eyes in turn. “Battle ready 24/7 as of now; phones and ID cards on your person at all times. Tony, clear the Tower of non-combatants and lock it down. Natasha, fan out the info we discussed to the other heroes, the X-Men, MI13, The Fantastic Four, the independents. Loop in the hostiles too. As much as Madame Hydra, Magneto, Madripoor, AIM might hate us, I hope they’d hate an alien invasion more. Clint, start the checks on the atmospheric Quinjets and the modified orbital one with Tony. Make sure you can both fly all of them in your sleep. Bruce, put together everything you had on the possible repurposing of the satellites as a defensive grid. Sam, Bobbi with me. We’re going to the United Nations.”

There was no more discussion. The Avengers all rose and scattered out of the room. Clint and Bobbi kissed deeply before pulling apart; she followed Sam down the corridor towards the garage elevator.

Half way down the corridor, a big hand wrapped around her upper right arm. Bobbi stopped dead with a jerk and was spun around to face a blank-eyed Captain America. 

She pursed her lips and they stared at each other in silence until everyone else had dispersed. 

“Physical therapy?” He asked flatly. “At the Thunder Dojo?”

“Yes,” she responded with a similar affect. She could feel the tension thrumming through his fingers.

“How much has Iron Fist been able to help?”

“I’m at about sixty five percent now, I think,” Bobbi said.

Steve’s hand spasmed open but there had been just a moment when his grip tightened on her arm and she winced. He leaned down (she forgot sometimes how tall he was) and said directly into her face. “I talked to Danny last week. He said you’re not quite half-way healed, if you fight you’ll hurt yourself and you’d try to claim it was better than it was.”

His tone was even, calm and gut wrenchingly terrifying. Bobbi flinched back from him just a little, her mouth bone dry.

“I need your brain right now and that’s the only reason I’m letting you walk out of here. But you do not _ever treat me like I’m stupid again_ , understand?”

Steve loved her. She knew that. Or so she started to repeat in her head, to combat the urge to sprint screaming back to the Nest and hide under the bed sheets.

“Yes,” she responded in a minuscule squeak of a voice. “I think I need to go change. I might have just wet my pants.”

That got just the tiniest edge of a smile as he stalked off.

Still took her upwards of a full minute to follow him to the garage. They nearly left without her.

Steve was driving—some days in New York the traffic required his reflexes—one of the nondescript black Starkcars the staff used. Bobbi took a back seat, she and Sam both staring out the side windows as the exited. Three early ambushes meant they were all alert leaving any garage entrance. 

“Hmmph. One of the bloggers got smart again,” Bobbi muttered. A vaguely familiar dark haired man had staked out the underground exit for the Avengers. It actually let out several blocks from the the Tower itself, which showed initiative on his part. 

Bobbi would never have noticed him but for a lucky crowd swirl. For a heartbeat, she caught him standing still and staring. She made note of his clothing but it was nondescript. When Steve and Sam looked over, he was gone again. 

“We’ll have to worry about them later. This is all about to break open anyway,” Steve sighed. 

“Who’er we meeting?” Sam asked, his eyes shadowed and his face tense.

“Security Council,” Steve said, whipping the vehicle into a pinball slalom that got them through a snarl of traffic in seconds. Steve was the most reckless driver they had by far. He drove like he was punching through a trench line during the war.

“I cannot wait until the first traffic cop stops you for doing stuff like that,” Bobbi said with a sigh, then blinked out the window. Was that the same guy she’d seen earlier? How’d he get in front of them?

But then the crowd moved again and whomever she’d seen was gone.

“Ugh, we expecting…?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Steve responded shortly. “It breaks me, but yes. SWORD was not the only point of failure here.”

The silence in the car became grim.

They pulled into their reserved space at the United Nations and stepped out. There were always a few photographers around; the Avengers were immediately pinned and framed by lenses as they stalked into a side entrance.

In the elevator, with Steve staring straight ahead, Sam looked over at Bobbi. “You want body language or just language?”

“Which are you feeling stronger with? I’m cool with the leftovers.”

“I’ll take body for three hundred Alex.”

“That’s what she said,” Bobbi responded amicably. 

The elevator opened onto a long corridor. A nervous aide—a dark skinned young woman with an Australian accent—was waiting for them.

“Captain Rogers, sir, I’m so sorry, Mr. Tanner and Ms. Pang are still on their way—they were both at home when you called—”

Steve stopped and smiled at her, which made her calm a little. “We can wait, Ms…?”

“Please call me Merindah.”

“You’re from Sydney?” Mockingbird asked.

“No, Perth but my mother just loved the name.” The woman looked at her a moment. “I’ve never met anyone who knew that before.”

“I am a creature of many talents,” Mockingbird said with a smile. 

They entered the large boardroom together. There were thirteen people already, only the American and Chinese Ambassadors still missing. Everyone looked at the three Avengers anxiously when they came in but Steve merely nodded and sat down at the spare seat the aide indicated. He placed his shield on the table top and gestured at Sam to sit down. They began a quiet conversation.

Seemingly forgotten, Bobbi wandered over to the refreshment table and poured herself a glass of cranberry juice. After a heartbeat she was joined by a tall, athletic man with dark skin and a necklace of claws.

Mockingbird put her drink down and bowed respectfully. “Your majesty.”

T’Challa, King of Wakanda, smiled at her. “No ceremony here.” His rich deep voice had the accent of a man who’d learned English in sub-Saharan Africa. “I am usually glad to see my brothers and sister in strife. But I think this hastily gathered meeting cannot proceed any good news.”

“No. I’m sorry. It’s as bad as we could expect.” Bobbi looked around casually. “That’s very _observant_ of you.”

She smiled at him and he nodded understanding. Just the the last two ambassadors bustled in and they started the meeting.

Sam stood up and faded back, against the far wall, watching. Bobbi did the same on the other wall. Steve remained in his seat. As T’Challa took his own chair he glanced from one Avenger to the next and smiled a little.

The Latverian ambassador, an older woman who was conspicuously not looking at Mockingbird, was the chair of the Security Council this term and she brought the meeting to order sharply. 

“Captain Rogers of the Avengers requested this emergency meeting, to update the Council on the…alien threat. Captain Rogers?”

Cap looked around the room, face to face, his stern expression set and unyielding. “Approximately three hours ago the Kree warship the Dark Aster crossed into the solar system, passing the warning system sent out by Tony Stark to the edge of the orbits of Charon and Pluto. That put them six months ahead of the schedule we had been assured by SWORD.”

The room devolved instantly into shouting, people on their feet, gesturing wildly. The Avengers and T’Challa sat silently, all four of them scanning the room. When order had been restored, Steve looked at Mockingbird who held up four fingers; Sam held up five. He nodded at them both.

Tanner, the American ambassador, pointed at Steve after taking a large gulp of water from his glass. “Correct me if I’m wrong here, correct me, but three months ago you sat right there and assured this council there would be no danger to earth. No danger to earth!”

Captain America looked grave. “Obviously, our preparations are no where near complete—we intended to meet the Kree out past the asteroid belt, in space, and prevent the population of Terra from ever knowing about the threat. While I have no idea what Ronan intends to do once he gets here—other than try to take over the world—we don’t have that luxury any more. You each need to go back to your heads of state. Tell them whatever you like but we know three things—”

Steve stood up, looking cool and powerful in his costume, his cowl down, his shield on the table in front of him. 

“One, that all evidence suggests the Kree intend to strike at my team, the Avengers, first. Rightly or wrongly, Ronan perceives us as his greatest threat—which since he knows more about us than we know about him might turn out to be true. Two, any data from SWORD must be assumed to be altered or incomplete. Three, SWORD isn’t the only organization that must have been infiltrated.”

He looked at Sam. Two fingers this time. Then Bobbi, who just tapped her own palm once. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, then continued.

“The only other organization who knew about the threat who would have been in a position to communicate with the Kree is this Security Council. So, someone in this room betrayed…well…the planet.”

That flat, calm announcement was met with stunned silence. 

“Captain Rogers,” said the Latverian ambassador eventually said. “Are you accusing this council of being in league with with a interplanetary invasion force?” 

“The council? No. Ambassador Tanner, yes.” He looked at the American ambassador who jumped up, making enraged noises.

“I cannot believe you! You’re accusing me of what? You’re nothing more than a foot soldier in a fancy outfit, how dare you!” Tanner was average height and build, his middle starting to spread like many career bureaucrats. After getting to his feet he stood still, his head tilted and hands clasped together at his waist. His voice was high and strained, his outrage genuine. He took another gulp of water. “This is asinine. It’s far more likely, far more likely, one of you or your other pets freaks is in league with these…Kree.”

From the wall, Sam Wilson called out. “Well, technically Mockingbird and myself are accusing you, it’s just that he agrees with us.”

Mockingbird laughed, short and humorless. “You’re repeating yourself. When accused of a very serious crime you instantly attacked rather than defending yourself. You have to gulp water to combat your dry mouth.”

Sam continued. “You’re not blinking. You’re standing totally still but we can all hear your feet shuffling under the table. Hell, you even pointed at Cap.”

Out of Tanner’s line of sight, T’Challa tapped his own chest in a rhythmic fashion. 

“Your heart is beating too quickly,” Captain America said. “You’re sweating.”

“This is a witch hunt!” Tanner yelled.

“No, it isn’t, ambassador. Nothing we say is admissible in court and since you deny it, well, all right. It’s not true. But if it is true, of you or anyone else in here…” Steve looked around again. “Then get a message to Ronan. We know you’re coming. We’ve known for a while. Before things get even messier…let’s talk.”

The three Avengers swept out of the room without saying anything else, leaving chaos behind them. As the elevator door swung closed, T’Challa slipped in behind them. In the small space he seemed bigger and more menacing than he had earlier.

When they were headed down, he turned to Captain America. “An impressive performance, Captain. To what purpose? If what you accused Tanner of is true, would it not have been better to leave the Kree unaware you knew they had a fox in the henhouse so to speak?”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck again. “Calculated risk. I have to assume Ronan knows we’re not ready for him. If he thinks he’s managing a true surprise attack against an unprepared planet he’ll just…attack. Lay waste to his primary enemies—us—and then take over. But this way, maybe he’ll be willing to speak to us first.”

“Also, we all know we were right,” Mockingbird said quietly. “I had four points of interest on him before he sat down. Thanks for the heartbeat part, your majesty.”

The elevator let them out at the parking level. 

T’Challa shook his head. “I will return to my embassy and consult with my mother, my elders, my gods. If I can be of any assistance to you, Captain, you need only call.”

“Give my love to Sehkmet,” Mockingbird said. “My kind of goddess.”

“She Who Mauls and yourself, Doctor Barton, have much in common. I would think She watches over you with pleasure.”

They parted ways and the Avengers walked slowly to their car. Bobbi looked over and waved at that young photojournalist from the Daily Bugle and squinted past him a second. She could swear that same dark-haired guy from the Tower was…no. No one there.

Back in the car, the silence was even grimmer. 

As they pulled into the underground at the Tower, Steve finally spoke again.

“Did we just ruin an innocent man’s life?”

“No,” replied Sam. “I’d bet my wings on him having sold us out. But we’ll know for sure in…what?”

“Forty eight hours,” Bobbi supplied. “In two days, Ronan the Accuser will be on Earth.”


	3. Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers face the worst of all possible outcomes.

Eighteen hours after her visit to the United Nations, Bobbi was sitting in the Avengers tactical room, watching high speed replays of all the exterior cameras on the Tower. Clint walked into the room behind her and deliberately shuffled his feet a few times. He never snuck up on her, or grabbed her unawares. Not since finding out about the Phantom Rider years ago.

She turned and smiled at him, pushing back from the monitor deck.

“Hey, sport. How’er the Quinjets?”

“The orbital one’s new propulsion mode is messing with the auto-pilot. Tony’s still knee deep in the guts of the operating system. I can’t do any more there. Can’t do anymore anywhere. Only so many arrows I can pack. Was wonderin’ what you were doing?”

“There was this guy I saw outside the Tower and maybe at the UN. Thinking back, I’ve think I’ve seen him before in the last month or so, when we left to go to the Thunder Dojo. I figured he was a blogger or superfan but…looking at the feeds he’s been around about two months and he’s really good at avoiding getting his face on camera. Too good.”

“Ah. Kree spy?”

“My thoughts exactly. Light-skinned Kree. I mean, we know they’ve been here before, for generations. Hell they’re inter fertile with us so they could have deep cover families all over the place, at least where us Caucasians congregate. I’ve got half a mind to go pin the dude to a wall and yell at him. But it wouldn’t help.”

Clint touched her face. “No, it wouldn’t. I can think of something that would help though.” He slid his thumb over her lips, lasciviously. 

She bit it, shaking her head a little, then stood up and stripped her shirt off. She was wearing a shell pink bra. Clint kicked off his shoes, pants and boxers and took her seat. 

Bobbi straddled him, reaching down to stroke her hands onto his hips, letting them inch his t-shirt up with agonizing slowness. She sat at the edge of his knees, his erection rising between them. Clint threw his head back, moaning, and she gave him a series of hickeys, alternating with light lovebites till the skin of his throat was ringed with red blotches. When the fabric reached his arms he held them straight up and she stripped him naked, herself still half dressed. He stared at her, his eyes wild. 

She sat back and unclipped her bra, letting the cups fall off her breasts gently one by one. He leaned forward and licked each in turn, tasting sweat, salt and the sweet tang of ‘Bobbi’, the best taste in the world. She stroked her hands into his short sandy hair, letting her fingers caress his scalp. He closed his eyes; closed his lips over one nipple, sucking and pulling. 

Bobbi laughed, low, slow, deep and stepped back away from him. He sat very still, his eyes hooded and half-closed. His tongue flashed out, running across his lips as though desperate to taste what was left of her there. 

She unzipped her jeans and found her hands covered by his as she pulled them down, stripping her off her panties with the same gesture. She straddled him again, feeling the solid heat of his erection against the curve of her thigh.

“In less then two days we’re either going to be in a world war or dead,” she whispered. He nodded, his eyes still half-closed. “At the risk of sounding trite…as long as I’m with you, it doesn't matter. What matters is that you loved me.”

“My whole fucking life only four things have made me a better man. Archery, Nat, Steve, this team. I figured that was the best I could hope for. Then…you showed up. You didn’t just make me better. You’re the thing I live for. I told Steve and Tony once I don’t revolve around the sun anymore. I revolve around you.”

“I told Thor you were the breath in my chest.”

“Why didn’t we say this shit to each other?”

“Too busy with the fun stuff. Saying it now though.”

“I…god, love isn’t even the right word anymore, little bird. I’ve loved you…I’ve been in love with you. Now? Now…it’s past love. What’s past love?”

“Forever,” Bobbi said into his ear, then arched up and took him inside her. 

They sat still like that for a long time, joined body and soul, needing no more words. 

*****

The word had come, through proxies, that Ronan would deign to meet with the Security Council and the Avengers. They had chosen the plaza in front of the United Nation building. Security had built a temporary construction wall around the whole area; the president had been advised. Ambassador Tanner was conspicuously missing from the whole process—the Secretary of State, Doctor Jasdeep Kaur, was representing the USA. 

Steve had been on his feet non-stop since they had gotten back from the UN the first time. The only moment he’d paused had been when a quiet, serious Sharon had appeared, declaring only that she was the official CIA rep for the event. For a few blessed hours they had disappeared into his quarters. Everyone had been profoundly, humbly grateful to her after that.

Fitz Simmons, on temporary assignment back in Britain, had tried to return to the Tower. Natasha had literally blocked their visas and sent a single line email. “You’re safer there.”

They had stopped calling after three hours of no Avenger answering them.

The X-Men were hunkered down in Westchester. The Fantastic Four had locked down the Baxter Building. And the Thunder Dojo had become a fluid gathering place for the independent heroes of New York.

Hill had cleared the Avengers Tower of all Stark staff. Pepper was setting up accommodations for everyone effected in New Jersey and Chicago but had refused to leave herself. 

The Avengers themselves were acting almost normally. They had completed their preparations with time to spare. Eight hours before they were due to meet with Ronan and his war band they were going about their day as usual. Steve, Clint and Natasha were working out. Thor was with Jane in the common area, laughing and eating pastries. Tony was with Pepper on his floor. Falcon was patrolling the sky above the Tower. 

Bobbi was sitting in the kitchen with Bruce, arm wrestling over Pluto.

The workout crew exited the elevator in time to see Bobbi pin Bruce’s arm to the marble counter top. 

“Two out of three, mothereffer! Pluto is still a planet!”

“Geez, Bruce, and she’s still injured,” Clint remarked, stalking past them to pull the carafe marked ‘Clint only you animal’ off the secondary coffee maker. He took a long pull and sighed happily.

Bruce rubbed his arm. “I’m pretty sure she could kick my ass from the ICU, Clint.”

Steve, reaching into the fridge for juice, looked up at Bobbi. “You’re still not allowed to fight.”

“Fuck, Steve, the planet’s on the line and you’re worried about my abdomen?” Bobbi snapped, exasperated.

“Yes,” he said briskly. 

Bobbi looked around the room for support, found none and subsided, muttering.

Hill walked into the room, her face graver than usual and she made Steve look like a rodeo clown. 

“They’re early. Again. Projected to make orbit in five hours. I already called Stark and Falcon to the armoury.”

Without speaking to each other, the Avengers all put down whatever they were holding and disappeared to their various apartments. Minutes later they were gathered on the quinjet launch platform in full battle panoply. Janet, Pepper, Hill and Sharon were all there too.

Steve actually went so far as to embrace Sharon in public, resting his cheek on her hair as they spoke in tiny murmurs to each other. Pepper was briskly checking Tony’s suit with him, her only sign of concern the tremble in her normally firm voice. Hill ran through the pre-flight on the quinjet with Hawkeye without visible emotion. Janet was admonishing Thor in a not quite undertone to ‘not do anything stupid and heroic’.

He was laughing, the rich deep noise filled with love and understanding.

Bobbi looked at Natasha and spoke in soft Russian. “If the theory that one spends the afterlife with those one is closest too when they die is true, I can think of no better company, sister of my heart.”

Black Widow smiled just a little. “Love is for children, blood of my blood and I feel very…childish today.”

They laughed together, and touched foreheads, gold and red joined. When they looked up, Hawkeye was staring at them across the room with open longing.

“Seriously, I think he might have a stroke if we suggested a threesome,” Bobbi muttered.

“I did once when we were all drunk,” Natasha said casually.

Bobbi looked startled “Why don’t I remember this?”

“You’re a cheap drunk, babushka. And he said no.”

“He said no?”

“He said no.”

“Fuck. He really does love me.”

They grinned at each other. 

Iron Man looked up, his face plate raised. “All systems go.”

As one, the Avengers moved towards each other; a still, cold distance moved over all of them, separating them from the four women. Captain America looked around at his team mates, still shaking his head a little at Mockingbird in her tactical suit. 

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Avengers, Assemble,” he said with something like a smile. That was their pre-game ‘Go Team!’. A look flashed around the group: humor, affection, nervous aggression, fatalistic calm. Clint rested a hand on both Bobbi and Natasha’s shoulders. 

The Avengers boarded the Quinjet in silence.

There was nothing more to say.

*****

At the United Nations, a fence had been erected to partially screen the plaza from the street but the street was still packed with people and reporters. The Quinjet landed in the space provided and as soon as Captain America exited he was surrounded by baying packs of diplomatic aides and minor dignitaries. Falcon, Mockingbird, Black Widow and Thor formed a cordon around him and they moved as a group towards T’Challa, the Latverian Ambassador and Doctor Kaur. Iron Man rose up into the sky. Hawkeye walked to the far side of the space and found a place he could stand that was higher than everyone else. Bruce was still on the jet, headphones plugged in, _Moonlight Sonata_ calming his brain. 

Before he reached the diplomats, Cap turned to the others and they huddled.

“Quick thoughts.”

“The Kree know of Asgard. They will be wary of me,” Thor rumbled.

“They associate Caucasian skin tone with lower social status. You’re down already,” Mockingbird added.

“I got no comment,” Falcon said with a grin.

“The only person who can change anything here is Ronan. He’s all that matters,” Black Widow finished.

T’Challa moved to join them. “Captain, it is agreed you shall be our voice here. I for one am glad. All that we know of this man is he respects only strength.”

“You could speak then, Your Majesty, and better than I could,” Captain America said sincerely. 

T’Challe shook his head. “I must split my heart between my people and my calling. The Black Panther could speak. I must stand and watch.”

Captain America looked up, into the still clear sky. “For now, that’s all we can do.”

*****

Ronan’s ship arrived with little warning, one second a black dot in the sky, the next it was hovering to land in the open space left for it. 

Falcon, Iron Man and Thor stood just behind Captain America, with T’Challa to their left and Black Widow to the right. Mockingbird had been relegated to the back of the group of diplomats. Hawkeye was standing on the plinth of a statue with that weird perfect stillness he affected when he was in pure marksman mode. Bruce was hovering at the front of the crowd of diplomats, his glasses off and his expression nauseous.

A bay door on the side of the vessel—looking much like one of the Quinjets, if larger and matte black—opened and suddenly the Kree invaders were all there. 

Ronan led the group. He was very tall, almost a foot taller than Captain America, and his deep blue skin seemed almost to shimmer in the weak spring sunlight.

The two Kree directly behind him mimicked his size and coloring. Tanalth carried her warhammer braced across one shoulder; Galen-Kor had his clutched in both hands in front of him. A smaller blue-skinned Kree with a woman who might have been any Caucasian human on the planet but for her strange body suit brought up the rear: Yon-Rogg and Phyla-Vell.

In the open com Mockingbird said softly, “Korath isn’t there. Cap, something’s off.”

“Agreed. Everyone, high alert,” Captain America muttered grimly. 

T’Challa, picking up the words with his enhanced senses, tensed as well.

“So,” boomed Ronan as he halted in front of the Avengers. “I am here to accept your surrender, Terrans.”

Captain America stepped forward, his chin high. “We’re not here to surrender, Ronan. We’re here to give you a chance to leave our planet, our solar system peacefully.”

The Kree all laughed, a contemptuous chorus. 

Ronan waved his hand at Captain America dismissively. “As admirable as your bravado might seem, Terran, it only compounds your foolishness. Submit, bow your heads and we will keep the loss of life here to a minimum.”

Iron Man raised a hand. “There’s something…messing with my sensors. Just pinned it down. Mobile, in the immediate area. Reads like Mock’s camosuit.” His voice sounded through their earpieces only.

Mockingbird added “The minions are all looking at Banner and Thor.”

Then Hawkeye spoke: “This is about to kick off. Get the civilians out.”

T’Challa started backing up drawing the Security Council with him. 

Tanalth noticed the movement and turned towards them.

Mockingbird grabbed the nearest soldier and hissed “Get the diplomats to safety. Now!”

There was a subdued implosive sound and a cloud of smoke surrounded the Avengers and the front row of the diplomats. A scream went up from the humans and they were all surging away in a group, like flocking birds.

The next instant Captain America’s shield slammed into Galen-Kor’s chest, knocking him backwards before rebounding into the cloud. Iron Man and Falcon leapt into the air; Black Widow cleared the smoke strafing with her hand guns.

The smoke dissipated to show Cap standing tall, his shield braced in front of him.

Thor and Bruce Banner were down on the ground, unconscious.

Ronan roared with laughter.

An arrow hit him in the throat. He staggered, blood spraying. 

Phylla-Vell surged forward, airborne, the next three arrows aimed for Ronan disintegrating against the energy field she threw off. She headed straight for Hawkeye. 

He vaulted off his perch, going right over her, placing arrows into both her shoulders as he went. She screamed and took off straight up, spinning in the air.

“Avengers, Assemble!” Captain America yelled. Those still standing ran towards him as Yon-Rogg, Tanalth and Galen-Kor formed up in front of Ronan, who was apparently ripping the arrow out of his own flesh with his bare hands. Korath the Pursuer shimmered into view next to them, grinning wildly.

The Kree had never intended to negotiate. It had been a deception from the start.

Mockingbird, trapped behind a crowd of panicking diplomats, saw everything as though on a movie screen, or a nightmare. She could only witness.

Hawkeye, the furthest away, was charging at full sprint through what open spaces the mass of humans was leaving him, unable to shoot without hitting a diplomat. 

Iron Man peppered the Kree with small missiles and his hand repulsors, stopping them from attacking. Falcon shot as he had targets. Black Widow held her fire, her Widow’s Bites glowing blue. She was clearly getting ready to go hand to hand. 

Cap held his ground in front of Thor’s fallen body, his eyes scanning the whole area in front of him, decisions being made and rejected in instants. 

The Avengers formed up, holding the line for an instant, then engaged the Kree.

It was beautiful, in its violent grace. Mockingbird, struggling to punch her way through the crowed holding her back, ignoring the stabs of pain searing up her torso from her unhealed wounds, caught moments of sheer absurb transendance as though in a dream.

Iron Man, spinning, throwing laser and repulsor fire in a descending spiral as the recovered Phyla-Vell—the arrows apparently vaporized by her energy field—tried to shoot him in the back.

Hawkeye, dodging Tanalth’s hammer blows with all his acrobatic agility, shooting like a machine, always hitting a target even as he tumbled. The big Kree woman was bleeding from a dozen strikes and still roaring and swinging.

Black Widow and Falcon double teaming Yon-Rogg, hitting from the ground and air in perfect synchronicity. 

Captain America, engaged with Galen-Kor, Ronan and Korath like a red, white and blue whirlwind.

That was where she should have been, at his back, at his side. That was her place on the team. 

So she could only blame herself when—in an eye blink of faltering, with no one to cover his right—the shield, on a rebound, was hammered out of Cap’s hand by Galen-Kor. 

Ronan surged forward and suddenly he had Captain America by the throat, legs kicking. He hoisted him high, the muscles in his arm flexing, blood pouring from the wound on his throat.

The Avengers all instantly targeted him, charging forward. 

Korath stepped back and threw something to the ground just in front of the Avengers.

Iron Man and Falcon fell from the sky; Clint and Natasha went down screaming and clutching their ears. 

Before anyone could do anything, the Kree had swept all of the fallen superheros into their arms, over their shoulders, heaved them into the hold of their ship. They scooped up Thor and Bruce Banner as well, in a clearly well planned move…

…and took off. On the way, they fired on the Quinjet almost as an afterthought, ripping it in half.

Mockingbird, still meters away, stared up at the departing ship in stupefied terror. The chatter in her ears was gone. The team…

She ran to where they had fallen, as though she could find something, anything to explain what had just happened. Her hands found the edge of Steve’s shield and it was on her arm, a heavy weight of responsibility and metal. Underneath it, she scooped up two Kree blood-drenched arrows, their shafts unbroken. Hawkeye would need them. That was what she did in combat for him, retrieved arrows…

But Hawkeye wasn’t there…

“Jarvis!” She screamed into the com, her mind clear again. “Can you raise the team?” She turned and sprinted for the street. When she reached the makeshift fence she extended her sword-baton and slashed it open with a single motion. 

Looking around, she tried to mark something, any vehicle she could steal…

One of the Avengers sedans screeched to a halt in front of her, the passenger door flying open. In the driver’s seat she saw Sharon.

Sharon had gunned the engine and slammed them into top speed the instant she was in the vehicle. She let the acceleration close the door.

“I have lost communications with all of the team members, even Mr Stark. I still have connection to their ID cards and vital signs are steady. Thor and Doctor Banner are still unconscious.” 

“Launch the orbital Quinjet. Launch it now,” Mockingbird ordered, belting herself in and stowing her treasures.

“Mr Stark was unable to fix the issue with the auto-pilot—”

“Point it at the Dark Aster and launch it right the fuck now Jarvis!” Mockingbird screamed.

“Launching,” came the AI’s calm response. In the swiftly diminishing distance—Sharon drove like Steve—Mockingbird saw the smaller Quinjet clear the pad and kick in its orbital engines, pointed straight up. Then it was gone.

“Why?” Sharon said, her voice controlled and empty of emotion.

“Because I don’t give a fuck who you are, you don’t keep Tony Stark away from his own tech for very long. And they’ll need it to get back to us.”

The other women were in the tactical suite when Sharon and Mockingbird charged in. Hill was pulling up maps and visuals of the Kree ship; Pepper was on the phone speaking quietly and urgently. Jane was just staring at the screens, her lips moving as though she was calculating something.

Mockingbird took her usual place, clutching Cap’s shield as a talisman, her eyes flying from readout to readout.

The orbital Quinjet had caught up with the Kree shuttle before it docked with the Dark Aster, currently in orbit over the North Pole. 

Seconds after it had come into range of the shuttle it had shown signs of being remotely controlled. The limited version of the retro-reflectors had turned on, concealing the vessel. 

Iron Man was back in business.

Mockingbird could do nothing from where she was for this part but she could plan…

“Hill, the other jet is ready to fly right?” She looked at the ex-Shield administrator intently.

“Yes. I can pull in private security if you want, to help you crew it.”

“No. Not yet. Pepper, the building is clear of civilians, yes?”

“Yes. I don’t understand why though…”

“The Kree targeted the team,” Sharon supplied tightly. “This will be the next place they hit.”

“Why isn’t Odin here? Or Frigga? Or Sif?” Jane wailed.

“The Kree know about Asgard. They figured out some way to put down Thor and Bruce in a breath. They must be…hiding all this from Heimdal,” Mockingbird said. “All right, Pepper, Jane, you clear the building too. Agent 13, Hill we’re goin—”

“Aspect change on the orbital Quinjet,” broke in Jarvis. “The team appears to have boarded it and turned around. They are headed back to Earth now.”

Mockingbird whipped around, staring at the wireframe projection on the main screen. It showed the path of the orbital jet arcing away from the Dark Aster and jinking back and forth.

“Why are they—” Pepper started to ask.

“They’re being shot at,” Hill answered before she could finish.

For a long breathless moment Mockingbird’s soul sang with hope…

…and then the schematic of the Quinjet was intercepted by something small and fast fired by the Dark Aster.

It winked out.

The room went deathly silent and into that agonized air, Jarvis spoke. 

“Iron Man ID card vital signs: flatline.”

Pepper gave a little scream then covered her mouth with her hand.

“Falcon ID card vital signs: flatline.”

Mockingbird’s knees gave out and she fell down with a crack.

“Doctor Banner ID card vital signs: flatline. Black Widow ID card vital signs: flatline.” 

The AI’s voice shook somehow, as though it too felt the gravity of what it was saying.

“Thor ID card vital signs: flatline.”

Jane fainted. Hill caught her before she could hit her head.

“Captain America ID card vital signs: flatline.” 

Sharon sat down, her hands spread on the table top in front of her. Mockingbird found she was resting her head on her own knees, curled into a ball of sheer denial. 

“Don’t say it, don’t say it,” she whispered.

“Hawkeye ID card vital signs: flatline.”


	4. Last Rites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only surviving member of the Avengers has to come up with a plan to prevent the Kree from invading Earth.
> 
> No powers. No allies. No hope.
> 
> Nothing left to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1)Given in the last chapter of "Intemperate and Savage, the Hawk Remembers..." on this fine site.

_Bobbi, get up,_ Mockingbird said from somewhere above her. _You gotta get up. I can't do anything till you get up_

It was Barbara who answered. Foul-mouthed, brusque, perpetually angry Barbara. _Jesus Christ you cold-hearted witch. Hawkeye's dead! Fuck the rest of these assholes! She should just throw herself off the Tower and fly!_

"Oh, yes," Bobbi whispered. Just a leap, over the railing and the air in her face and whatever came after the last bad landing she'd ever make...

 _No._ That wasn't Mockingbird. It wasn't even the **other one** who lived in her head, the one she thought of as "Clint's Little Bird". Little Bird was the whole package, all the _hers_ made whole.

Captain America, and in his voice she heard the echoes of all her friends...her family...her team.

_You will not give up that easily, soldier. As long as you stand, we stand. Avenger, Assemble!_

And then came that beloved growl, caressing the back of her brain as his hands caressed her body the day before. _Said 'forever', little bird. Meant it. I'll wait; finish the game._

Mockingbird rose, setting the shield on her arm as she had seen Steve do so many times. He was with her still, in its solid weight. In her belt pouch were the arrows she'd retrieved--

 _The arrows. Of course._ That was Doctor Morse, usually the quietest of the _hers_.

When she turned to the other four women, Jane had come around, tears streaming down her face. Sharon and Pepper were staring at her in undisguised concern; well, she had probably been muttering to herself in a fetal position. HIll was turned away, texting on her phone. Fury would know about all this already. 

"Jarvis," Mockingbird said, her voice steely and cold. "Ragnarok protocol."

Jane jerked when she heard the word. "What?"

Jarvis spoke over her. "All assets of the Avengers have been transferred to your personal control, Mockingbird."

"What?" Jane said again, looking at Pepper.

"The Avengers are a legal entity, a corporation, to protect them if something happens to Stark Industries. She just took total control of this building, all their cash reserves--"

"The armory," Sharon finished.

Mockingbird laughed. "Jarvis, thank you for all your service. You have been a true ally all these years. Here now I relinquish all legal and financial responsibilities associated with the Avengers as an entity. Pepper Potts, Jane Foster, Maria Hill, Sharon Carter I name you joint executors of the Avengers Estate--pretty sure you can figure out the division of labor on your own, sports--with this additional charge: when my ID card flatlines in the next few days, start hunting for a new team. I would suggest starting with Luke Cage or Carol Danvers as leader. The world needs the Avengers, whether I succeed or fail in what I'm about to do."

"What are you--" Sharon started to say.

Mockingbird's phone rang, the brash tones of "London Calling" shrill and urgent. She laughed again, bitter as poison, took out her Starkphone and placed it on the table in front of her. "Hang on, I gotta get yelled at by an Englishman." She tapped the 'call answer' and 'speakerphone' buttons.

"WHATEVER THE HELL YOU'RE THINKING OF DOING, BOB, YOU STOP THINKING IT!" shouted Lance Hunter, head of MI-13 and Excalibur, the Avengers counterparts in Great Britain. Lance was also her former lover and a good friend of Clint's, which made her crazy.

"Hello Lancelot, did Tony know Fitz Simmons trapdoored the ID card signals?"

In the background a man's voice with a Scottish accent snapped indignantly "He certainly did!"

For just a moment the thing of rock and metal and ice that was Mockingbird's face melted into a tiny, fond grin. "I'm teasing Leo. Jemma there?"

"Yes," said Simmons, her sweet voice clotted and thick with tears.

"Good. You should know you two have nothing but respect and gratitude from...everyone...from me. It's been an honor and pleasure to work with you. Watch out for Lancelot for me."

"Bob," Hunter growled. "Stop that. You deflect when you're planning something reprehensible. Just...Bob, don't. I can't imagine what...they wouldn't want you to do what...whatever it is you're doing." His voice grew increasingly desperate 

"Did Clint say you could move on me if he died?" she asked idly, her head quirked to the side.

"No. He said if I did he'd come back from the dead to shoot me. So, it's a date?" There was an air of fragile hope in Hunter's voice warring with the more prominent despair. 

"Good bye Lancelot. We'll always have Franny's." 

Mockingbird snapped out one of her batons and smashed it down on the phone.

"Bobbi, what the hell?" yelled Sharon. 

Mockingbird shrugged, walked over to one of the storage closets and pulled out a small wand. She powered it up and ran it up and down her body, over each limb, then replaced it.

"What is she doing?" Jane hissed to Hill.

"She just destroyed all the trackers in her equipment," Hill answered, her voice tight. "Mockingbird, Nick's also asking you to--"

"Fury knows I'm not his dog anymore," was the sharp answer. Hill closed her mouth with a glare.

Mockingbird pulled out her ID card and dropped it on the table next to her shattered phone. Then she looked up and nodded to each woman on turn.

"I'm going upstairs to the Nest for a moment, then I'm leaving. Sharon, would you join me? I...need to give you something and ask a favor?" Sharon nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Pepper, I didn't think it was possible to meet a woman who could match Tony but you over matched him. I'm sorry I can't be a friend to you right now but--"

"It's all right. I get it," Pepper reached out and clasped Mockingbird's arm. "I don't want you to do whatever you're about to do but...I wouldn't stop you if I could."

Mockingbird smiled her thanks, then turned to Jane. "The bravest man I've ever met was in awe of your courage, Doctor Foster. I'm sorry we didn't know each other better." Jane just shook her head, her big eyes pools of pain.

"Hill." The two former Shield agents faced off. "We didn't always get on, but there has never been a moment I've known you that I didn't respect you. Take care of whomever...comes next." Hill nodded tightly.

With that, the two blonds exited and went to the Nest in total silence. Inside, Bobbi went into the bedroom and just stood for a long moment, her hands clenched in fists at her sides and trembling faintly. 

Eventually she spoke without looking at Sharon. "I'm sorry I can't...I'm sorry I won't be here to grieve with you. To share stories and cry--" Her voice broke for a second. "I'm sorry. I can't be human right now. I have to be Mockingbird to see this through."

"See what through? What are you planning?" Sharon said, her own agony snapping in her throat.

Mockingbird laughed that bitter laugh again. "Something Steve wouldn't be very happy about." For the first time since she'd risen from the floor of the tactical room, Mockingbird met Sharon's eyes. Her mask slipped and Sharon flinched back from the soul sucking wound revealed on her face. Her pain was nearly audible, setting the air in the room vibrating in the key of despair. "The best man, the best person I've ever known loved you Sharon Carter. Loved you to the depth of his soul, and his soul went down to the bottom of the world. Take what comfort you can from that."

She strode to the side table of the bed and opened the top draw. She pulled out a wooden box, beautifully crafted, stained and decorated, with monogrammed initials on the top (1). Turning back to Sharon, she opened the lid to reveal two origami birds on white silk. "Clint gave me these on our first wedding anniversary...well, when I woke up from the coma. I'm an orphan but Clint has...had...a brother. Barney. He's serving out a federal sentence under an alias, Jarvis has all the details. He's a useless asshole gangster-wannabe but he's...he's all that's left of Clint in the world. Give him this when he gets out. Remind him he promised us both he would go straight; there's a trust fund set up for him, a fresh identity. Fresh start. Keep an eye on him. You have my permission to kick his ass if he steps out of line. Or you can keep it and just kick his ass. I mean, if you don't hate me too much after all this."

Sharon took the box and held it like some kind of holy relic. "I could never hate you, Bobbi. And he loved you too."

Mockingbird stepped forward and embraced her once, gently, though Sharon could feel the crushing strength she was holding back. "Maybe. But unlike me, you deserved it."

With that she was gone. By the time Sharon composed herself, Mockingbird was out of the Tower completely. 

No phone, no ID card, no GPS. Untraceable.

Unstoppable.

*****

The news of the Avenger's deaths spread rapidly through superhero community, though no one could trace the initial source of the intell. It was just suddenly common knowledge. No one could raise Mockingbird, whom Spiderman had seen leaving the site. The Fantastic Four were incommunicado, no one knew where or why. In confusion and fear the most prominent independents had gathered at the Thunder Dojo. 

Carol Danvers stood next to Luke Cage, both of them cross-armed and silently worried. Danny was pacing the room, his energy manic as Misty watched him with concern. Spiderman was crouched on the wall near the ceiling, his body language tense. Daredevil stood silently against the same wall. They had both come in fully masked through the sky light. Jessica Jones and Hellcat were in street clothes, near Luke, talking in a rapid undertone. Stephen Strange sat cross-legged to one side of the space, watching the rest of them.

The shouting and arguing had died down after about an hour, leaving them all exhausted and frankly scared. It was into that taut atmosphere that Mockingbird literally landed, dropping through the skylight as lightly as the bird she was named for. She was in her full combat gear, with all her weapons.

"Bobbi!" Danny cried and started forward. 

Deliberately she brandished Captain America's shield at him and he stopped, his expression confused and hurt.

She looked around the room, ending on Captain Marvel. "Carol. Do you know where Noh-Varr is?"

The half-Kree hybrid hero nodded. "He booked it out of the city the instant word came through. He might be a warrior but he's terrified of being taken back by the Kree."

"Good. So it's just you that we know about in the city right? I mean, people with Kree genetics."

"And any of the deep-cover spies Ronan has here."

"Carol, get out of the city too. Please. Before... the witch hunt starts," Mockingbird said with a head shake. "I can't be sure what might happen otherwise."

"What do you mean by that?" Doctor Strange asked carefully.

"Can't tell you right now. And in two days I won't be here," Mockingbird replied flatly. 

"Too high and mighty to help out with the important stuff?" sneered Jessica Jones.

Spiderman came off the wall; Daredevil tensed and took a step forward. Her hands at her sides Hellcat's claws extended.

Fairly clearly everyone in the room expected Mockingbird to try and take Jones' head off. 

Instead the Avenger just shook her head. "I'm going to be with my team, Jessica. I'm going to be pretty thoroughly dead. So that'll make you happy." She smiled sadly, her words sincere, without anger or bite.

"What are you talking about?" Iron Fist asked. His voice went really serious, something none of them heard much. Misty and Luke Cage exchanged a worried look.

"I came here to tell you. As a courtesy. I'm going to do something....extreme in the next few days. And I don't want any of you involved. Complicit. I'll be dead so no one can hurt me after that but I want all of you to have clean hands," she said softly. Her eyes, behind her combat goggles, were empty voids. 

"What ever you are planning, there is another way perhaps?" Doctor Strange asked, carefully, his hands moving casually in front of him.

"You keep trying to cast a spell at me Stephen, I'm going to break your arms," Mockingbird replied lightly. Strange's hands stopped moving and he shrugged, unapologetic. "And I worked out four separate ways I can take down the people who killed my...my family. Two of them involved extensive collateral damage to the planet. One had a 97% chance of failing. I settled on the last." She looked around the room again. "If this doesn't work, you're going to be in a war, full out. Prepare yourselves."

"Bobbi, you're talking crazy," Iron Fist snapped. "You're not going on a suicide mission. That's not you. I know you."

Mockingbird's body language went very still.

"You...know...me? Really. What do you think you know about me Danny Rand?"

Oblivious to the danger that everyone else sensed, Iron Fist blathered on, his hands waving.

"That you're difficult and sarcastic and tough, yeah, you've got no patience with fools--"

"Fools like you?" she murmured and that seemed to get his attention finally. He focused on her, her pale face, her soulless eyes. Her weapons, the shield prominent across her chest. She stepped towards him; in the background Luke mimicked her and was waved off by Misty. Behind Danny, Daredevil put out his hand in front of Spiderman's chest to check him. 

"You know me, Danny? Because of what? Two dates, a few sparring? A couple of missions? I owe you a lot right now--I've owed you a lot for years--but I don't owe you that. I don't owe you thinking you _fucking understand me you self-righteous little rich boy_." In the blink of an eye her voice went from near whisper to a roar that filled the space with murderous menace. She advanced on Iron Fist and everyone suddenly noticed she was taller than he was.

"Jesus!" yelped Spiderman, leaping backwards onto the wall again.

The rest of the heroes--even the impetuous Hellcat--held their ground, sensing this was something nearly private in its intensity. 

Danny--in his body suit but not wearing his bandana mask--looked alternately hurt and angry. "What the hell Bobbi? Why are you insult--"

"Insulting you? Insulting _you_? You insult me thinking you have the slighted fucking understanding of who I am, what I do but that's okay? You think you know who I am, you--"

And she hit him, an open handed slap across the face so fast and unexpected he didn't have time to dodge. He staggered to the side and turned back to her, his face reddening and his expression settling into angry as its default. 

"Come on Danny," she mocked him. "Come on and show me how much you understand." She hit him again, another slap that he still seemed to shocked to dodge or block. 

She circled him, now in the center of the dojo, the air around them pregnant with rage.

"This is who I am Danny. This is what Steve and Clint and Natasha have been protecting all of you from, for all these years." She hit at him again and this time he reacted as Iron Fist, not Danny Rand. He danced to one side, moving like he was made of silk and fire, each step and motion precise, smooth, powerful. 

The sheer poetic beauty of Iron Fist in combat could stun the mind--sometimes opponents simply stopped and stared at him for a heartbeat, as though seeing god. Iron Fist was the martial epitome of grace. In contrast, Mockingbird was a thug, a straight forward brutalist of a fighter. In reality she was graceful too, strong and fast and skilled. But Iron Fist in full cry was literally incomparable.

Not tonight: shaken by the events of the last few days, by Bobbi's sudden aggression, by his own worry for her Danny was hedging, slow, hesitant. She struck out at him hard and fast, not seeming to care about him at all. She kept up a steady stream of taunts, her voice dripping contempt, as she attacked him.

"As if you've ever had to deal with anything like this, little Danny. Oh, poor you, you got bullied at K'un L'un; poor you. You've had money, privilege, prestige your whole life. No blood on your hands; no blood on your soul. I've done things you couldn't even contemplate. Not pure hearted little Danny. Not naïve, innocent little Danny. I've been through hell and back and no one's ever given me anything, if I wanted something I had to claw and bite and scratch my way up a mountain of shit to get it. And I finally got something that mattered, someone who didn't just see a killer, something, someone that made be better, made me a hero and now it's gone, _THEY'RE ALL GONE DANNY AND I DON'T HAVE A NICE CUSHY LITTLE LIFE TO FALL BACK ON WHERE I GET TO BE THE WHITE SAVIOR WITH ALL MY MONEY THAT DADDY GAVE ME--_.

That seemed to break him. With a roar, Danny Rand called the Iron Fist, his hand glowing like the sun and struck at Mockingbird full force. It would be a lethal blow.

She met it with Captain America's shield. The irresistible force and the immovable object. 

The sound of the blow was deafening, shattering two panes of glass on the outside windows. The reverb sent Danny flying into the far wall, leaving him shaking his head and half stunned. When he looked up, Mockingbird was crouched in front of him, smiling a little without pleasure or happiness.

"That's who I am, Danny. The kind of person who can goad a good man into trying to commit murder."

He stood up and she rose with him. Before she could react, he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms in a fierce hug with his usual swift compassion. "I had no idea you were in that much pain, Bobbi. I'm so sorry. I'm an idiot."

"Let me go, Danny." She asked him quietly and when she stepped back an air of remote finality settled over her. The rest of the heroes ranged from appalled to concerned to blackly amused in Jessica Jones' case. Mockingbird looked around again.

"I think--I'm sure--I can make this work but I have to go now. I have things to do. If I fail you'll all know pretty damn quick. It should be...two days. Just...be who you all are. Keep the faith, keep the people safe. And in two days, stay away from Times Square. After that, well, remember us all however you see fit. Luke, Stephen, Carol? When I'm gone, go to Pepper Potts, to Sharon Carter. Like I told them, the world needs the Avengers. I charge you, in Captain America's name--don't let us die in vain."

She turned back to Danny. "I'm sorry about...I'm not really sane right now, Danny-boy. I've got to hold this together a little longer and then I can rest. I'm so tired. I can't be...human. Told Sharon. Gotta be Mockingbird...gotta be..." She trailed off, her whole body trembling and raised her fists to her eyes. She had to pull her hand back when the edge of the shield hit in the forehead, her confusion pathetic. 

Daredevil stepped up now, reaching out to touch her forehead with his right hand. He made a swift little gesture there, then against her lips, then again over her heart. 

"Go with God, Mockingbird. Peace be with you." His voice, grave and quiet, had a firm finality. 

"And also with you," she responded automatically.

She hefted the shield again, almost in benediction. "Forgive me my trespasses, my friends. And forgive me for what I am about to do." She walked to the door, passing through the group as a ghost, growing remoter and remoter with every step. Danny followed her until he reached Misty who touched his arm, stopping him. He looked from her to Mockingbird, agony on his face, then back at her. She shook her head and on his other side so did Luke; he subsided, misery in every line of his body.

"You're such a drama queen, Morse," called out Jessica Jones to Mockingbird's back and was rewarded with that tiny laugh again. Bobbi looked over her shoulder at them all and her face became hers again for a breath. 

"Raise a glass, my friends, when this is all done. Have a wake, a block party. Send us to Valhalla in style."

As she made her way down the stairs she heard Captain Marvel speak again, apparently in answer to something Hellcat had said. 

"No, Walker, you don't get it. The Avenger were never our superiors. They were our sacrifice."

 _The front line,_ mused the Steve inside her head. _The forlorn hope who run into the breach in the wall, to fill the battlements with our bodies, so the rest can walk over us to victory. From the beginning, that was always going to be our end._

"One body left to put on the pile," Mockingbird answer him aloud as she reached the street. It was empty--she hadn't realized how late it had gotten, nor how frozen the city was in fear. She started to run north, towards the United Nations.

One last stop, one last push and she could rest--

A body hurled out an alley at her and she leapt backwards, into another alley, pulling the shield in front of her.

A man, his big strong body in shadow so she couldn't see his face stalked into the alley.

"That," he snarled, pointing at the shield. "I want that."

"Well, if you think you can take it, sport...come and try."

The man dropped into a fighting stance and came at her, moving fast...

*****

The Wakandan Embassy off 2nd Ave had a small garden at the back, carefully tended with trees, flowerbeds and stretches of grass. It was also well guarded so when the woman in the black and white body suit, carrying the red, white and blue shield vaulted over the ivy covered brick wall she was facing down five armed guards and three members of the Dora Milaje before she made her landing. Without a pause she dropped to her knees, placed the shield on the ground and help up her hands in surrender.

"Please," she cried in accented but passable Hausa, the dialect the Black Panther and his female bodyguards used, "Sanctuary. I cry sanctuary from Wakanda, in the name of the Black Panther, T'Challa, King of the nation." 

The leader of the Dora Milaje stepped forward, her shaved skull gleaming like oiled ebony. "We stand on the brink of war, intruder, we have no time for this. Give me one reason not to execute you here!"

"Nakari," came a voice from the darkness behind her, rich and regal. "The only answer you need is on her breast. Be welcome on Wakandan soil, Last of the Avengers."

T'Challa moved into the light, dressed in a tunic and light pants even in the spring chill.


	5. Miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you push an Avenger far enough, the results can be...unpredictable.

T'Challa knocked on the door frame of the basement lab where Mockingbird had been holed up, alone, working feverishly for the last twenty hours. 

She turned in her chair, her face pale, huge dark circles under her eyes. She was still wearing her tactical gear, her weapons close at hand...which is why he'd knocked. He knew what someone on the literal edge of the their personal abyss looked like.

She struggled to her feet, her knees wobbly from fatigue and bowed to him. "Your majesty, I'm sorry, have you been there long?"

He advanced into the room, looking her over in grave concern. "No, I just arrived back. It is done. Ronan and his elite have agreed to meet...our delegation at the time you requested, in Times Square, and accept our surrender...or so was implied. The Army and National Guard are clearing the area. The other members of the Security Council are very confused but simply glad someone is taking charge. The loss of the Avengers--"

He stopped speaking when her face crumpled like a child, her breath huffing out. Her whole body wavered and he stepped forward and grabbed her arms as she started to fall backwards. 

"Forgive me," he said urgently. "I did not think before I spoke."

"It's...s'okay. S'okay. Just managed to put it out of the front of my mind for like, a few seconds." Her head turned a little, as though listening to someone behind her. "Oh, shut up, Sam, I'm not paying attention to you like _normal_." She looked back at T'Challa and noted his expression. "Yeah, they're here, in my head. They all talk to me. It's keeping me...working but...yeah, I'm dissociating big time. That's why I set that time frame. I know my brain well enough to know that'll be maybe five hours before I start to slide downwards into total bug-fuck demented. That should be enough of a buffer." She got that listening look again. "Yes, fine, Cap, language."

T'Challa firmed his grip on her arms. "How long has it been since you slept? Since you ate?"

She smiled at him, sad and sweet. "Since I was alive? Before my world ended at least."

"I know your work here is crucial to this mysterious plan but--"

"No. No you're right. And anyway I...I have what I need. I'm just running tests to be sure but I nailed it a few hours ago; I felt it click. If I kept working, I didn't think. I don't want to think."

"Will you come upstairs? Bathe, eat, sleep a little? To honor my household, at my request?" He spoke with grave sincerity, as he did most things, but there was such respect and concern in his eyes she smiled that heartbreaking smile again.

"You are nearly as charming as Tony at full cry--I said nearly, Stark, calm the hell down--thank you. But I am loathe to put you and yours to greater trouble, risk, danger. I have what I need. I should just leave."

"I would be deeply offended if you did," he responded, with not a little asperity. "Besides, this embassy is the most convenient hiding place in the city for you, isn't it? For no one will think to hunt you here and if they do come in desperation, at my word the Dora Milaje will turn them away with nothing."

They exchanged a deep searching look and she nodded. "Yes. I needed to be...not found. I needed an advanced lab, like at the Tower or the Baxter building but without...complicity. If what I'm planning comes to light there will be consequences. But I'll be dead, beyond persecution and..."

"I have diplomatic immunity. And so I am the only person in this lab with you, my staff have been advised to forget your very existence and I have asked you no questions, though I can see the genetic model on the computer screen."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, I did not mean to treat you like you're stupid. If it makes you feel better, I do that with a lot of people, even ones smarter than I am, like you. I'm an arrogant asshole on a good day. Yes, I'm using you. Shamelessly. To do something...well, as Lancelot said, reprehensible. Because...I will live up to my title. I will _avenge_ them."

T'Challa released his hold on her forearms and made an expansive gesture with both hands. They had been standing close as dancing partners and she swayed away from him a little. "If there was anything to forgive, I forgive you," he said. "But I find no fault in a warrior who would hurl themselves on the spears of the enemy to spare those behind them. In grief and pain, you still seek to serve the greater good. Wakanda is honored to aid. Come. Bathe. Eat with me. Sleep a little. The Black Panther will guard you, as you have guarded the world."

Mockingbird nodded her head, closed down her work on the computer and watched T'Challa lock the door of the lab behind them both, guarding the secrets within.

*****

At the next dusk, Times Square was eerily deserted, the neon lights and ads flashing in silence over bare pavement. Seagulls, pigeons, rats and crows scavenged the ground like vacuum cleaners, reveling in the peaceful bounty. 

Ronan's personal ship landed in the middle of the space so swiftly it probably cause a few casualties amongst the vermin. The doors swung open and the big Kree warlord and his bodyguards stalked into the open, looking around with contempt. Seeing no delegation, Ronan turned to Korath, visibly irritated. "What foolery is this? The Terrans said they would meet us here to surrender."

"No, they didn't," called a woman's voice from no where, piercing and clear in the cool night air. "The message said we'd meet you to 'discuss' it. Let's discuss, Accuser."

Dramatically, Mockingbird shimmered into existence a few dozen yards away from them, Captain America's shield on her arm and an extended combat baton in her right hand. Blood trickled in a thin stream from her nose but stopped after a moment. 

"So, there remains one pathetic Avenger left behind. I would have thought you would have slain yourself, as any proper spouse and subordinate should have," Ronan mocked at her. 

"I'm not Kree. Humans don't give up that easy," Mockingbird spat back. "Are we going to trade childish taunts or talk like grownups?"

"Why should I talk to you, little female? You have no authority to surrender this planet--"

"You idiot. No one has that authority. Earth is not Kree-Lar. We're not a monolithic, dead-ended society with a dictatorial collective controlling us. We're a planet of free nations and for every one who rolls over and shows you their belly, five more will fight to the death. If you want Earth, you'll only have it on a river of Kree blood, Accuser."

"You cannot resist us, human," sputtered Yon-Rogg. "No matter what technology you have stolen from your betters, you are little more than primitive animals to us!" There was a rumble of assent from the group, all of whom were spreading out and advancing on Mockingbird.

"Odin, your hard on for Captain Marvel is just never ending, isn't it? She kicked your ass fair and square, you know. I've seen the replays," Mockingbird said with a shrug and backed up as casually as they were advancing on her. "Ronan, I called you here to give you one last chance to get off my planet. As much as I want your head for killing my team, I have to live up to Captain America's legacy, offer the peaceful option. Go, now. Never come back. And I'll let you live."

"Just die, you ridiculous strumpet," Ronan said with a dismissive wave.

His elite guards attacked.

It was like watching a biker gang charge a toddler. Mockingbird looked so small and fragile in front of the massive blue bodies.

And yet she stood still and proud, centering the red white and blue shield across her chest, her head high.

Phyla-Vell got to her first, literally flying across the space between them, bolts of energy splitting the air.

Mockingbird leaned down behind the vibranium, the energy shedding off the front like water, her insulated and reinforced tactical suit soaking up the edges of the field. As the flying Kree reached her she dove forward, shoulder rolling down and under the other woman. Phyla-Vell turned in mid air--

\--and screamed, clutching at her shoulder. A gun shot wound blossomed on the front of her suit and she fell writhing in pain to the ground.

"Oh, yeah, and I still have allies, assholes," Mockingbird sneered. 

Tanalth leapt into the air, swinging her hammer--and the shaft shattered sending the head spinning into Korath's face. Yon-Rogg dodged the other Kree and threw a massive punch at Mockingbird. She slid under it, still not returning any blows, moving like a wraith, like smoke and mist, sliding into the spaces the Kree left. With every lithe dodge, she inched closer to Ronan, who stood still, his face twisted with anger and embarrassment. 

But now Mockingbird was surrounded and no more shots rang out as she engaged with the Kree hand to hand, unable to avoid the confrontation.

The shield saved her over and over as she deftly switched it from her arm to her back, to covering her legs. She did not throw it, as Steve would have--it was too heavy for her unenhanced body. Her baton flew though, rebounding from heads and bodies and weapons. She broke one of Korath's wrists on an upswing and nearly took out Galen-Kor's eye with the extended sword blade on the down .

She fought gloriously, brilliantly, channeling her lost friends, her rage, all her grace and skill into a whirlwind of vengeance. It wasn't enough; it couldn't be. Grieving, sleepless, still mere months from her near fatal injuries Mockingbird fought on borrowed time.

It ran out abruptly.

Tanalth slipped on broken cement and went down on one knee, forcing Mockingbird to leap over her. In mid air, Galen-Kor caught her on the side of the torso with a partially deflected strike from his hammer--she tumbled, ungainly and stunned. She skidded to her back and they were on her as group before she could rise. She turtled, pulling the shield over her head and chest, curling up her legs. It wasn't enough. Blow after blow hammered down, most hitting the shield but enough getting through that when they split apart again Mockingbird was a bloody mess sprawled on the ground. She'd lost her baton but the shield was still firmly strapped to one arm. She was clearly going to die with it there.

Galen-Kor raised his hammer above his head, to deliver that killing blow.

"Hold," said Ronan calmly. "Bring her here."

Tanalth grabbed Mockingbird by the back of the neck and dragged her, stumbling and coughing over to the Accuser. She was dropped at his feet, head down, shield face down in the dirt.

"You impress me, little human. It has been my custom to take a concubine from each people I conquer--I had thought to take that Captain of yours--but you are not un-comely. And clearly strong."

Mockingbird laughed, a sucking liquid noise. "I'm married, thanks."

"You are a widow, foolish woman. Think a moment. When I crush the nations of your world, you will live in luxury."

There was silence from the blond woman, other than a few wheezing breaths.

Ronan shook his head, in frustration. "Life in my bed or death at my hand, give me your answer."

Mockingbird's head came up and she was on her feet, moving fast, her earlier limp weakness a ruse. "Here's my answer," she said and spat a mouthful of blood into Ronan's face. 

He roared and struck out at her blindly, so powerful that he knocked her almost back to where she had lain before, tumbling. She came up on one knee, the shield before her again.

High and clear, Mockingbird laughed. 

"Game over, Kree. I win." She pointed at him, at all of them, spotted as they were with her blood. "Check your files on me, I'm not just a fighter, I'm a biochemist. A geneticist. And you left your blood behind, on Hawkeye's arrows. Left it behind before you _murdered my family_. You're all infected now with a Kree-specific super virus, I carried it live in my blood stream, activated by mixing with my saliva. It's multiplying in you now. It'll start on your lungs. You're all dissolving from the inside out."

Yon-Rogg pulled out a hand scanner, ran it over himself. His blue skin went chalky. He repeated the action with all the others, his face getting paler and paler. The Kree milled around Ronan, horrified.

Ronan strode forward and grabbed Mockingbird by the throat as he had grabbed Steve a few days before, hauling her up kicking and choking. "If you made this thing, you witch, you can unmake it. I will see you in agony for as long as it takes to---"

"You idiot," she gasped. "I came to meet you with death in the marrow of my bones. Did you think I hadn't thought of that?"

He let her down enough she could speak clearly. "The virus is eating my red blood cells to reproduce itself. In thirty minutes I'll be dead. No one's going to break me in half an hour, sport, but you can try. Please. Waste more time and let the little killers in your body sharpen their knives." She laughed in his face, spotting more blood against his skin. "Here's a better idea. Get. The. Fuck. Off. My. Planet. If you do--once you're out past Pluto and accelerating away, the info on the anti-viral will be transmitted to the Dark Aster. It's not a vaccine--I don't think you can vaccinate for this one, but hey, take some time and try."

Ronan stared at her and she stared back. "And if you try to exact any vengeance on Earth now, if you ever come back, I have left instructions with people more ruthless than I am. This virus, mutated enough that the anti-viral won't work on it, will be transferred to Kree-Lar, to every colony world, to every place your people have been or will be. From death, I will destroy your empire, Accuser."

The big Kree dropped her again and she fell to her knees, looking up at him with manic bright eyes. He reached back and pulled out his own war hammer, bracing it in both palms. "I should have known how much trouble even one Terran can be. I am not done with this world but I concede that today...we are defeated. We will retreat." He raised the hammer above his head. "Still I'll have your skull on my wall to remember this by."

Mockingbird spread her hands, laughing wildly.

The _shheeeeeeee thunk_ of the black arrow slamming into the head of Ronan's hammer was almost lost under the noise.

Mockingbird's laugh cut off abruptly. "Man, these hallucinations are getting really vivid," she said in a conversational tone.

The arrow head exploded, shattering the hammer and sending Ronan staggering back into the arms of his minions. 

She heard the sounds then that meant family-friends-rescue to the pit of her soul. The whine of repulsors, the woosh of Falcon's flight engine. The solid slamming landing of Thor hitting pavement. 

But they were all dead...weren't they?

She couldn't turn her head, couldn't risk looking and not seeing them. If this was some last gasp of her sanity fleeing than she wouldn't chase it down. Let them live a moment longer before her body gave up the ghost.

Firm footsteps to her right and red boots appeared at the edge of her vision. Equally firm steps to the left and black ones were there, with delicate arches. 

Mockingbird held up the shield as though in offering to some smiting deity. "I think you dropped this."

"Keep it. You earned it," Captain America said and it was his voice, Steve's rich warm voice, deep and comforting. She took a breath and risked looking up.

His beautiful face was battered, bruised. He had cuts on his neck, his cheeks. His cowl had been raggedly ripped off at the shoulder and there were rents in his costume. So, maybe this was real because the imaginary Steve in her head was always perfect. She looked to the left and saw Natasha with similar injuries. 

And then _he_ touched her on the back of the neck, and she knew that hand, those calluses and her breath stopped and she believed this was happening. This miracle was real.

Her head turned, like a puppy or a kitten and nuzzled into his palm. He smelled right, like Clint. Like love and laughter and joy. And frankly dirt, motor oil and sweat.

Mockingbird stood up, flanked and surrounded by her team. Alive, somehow. She held the shield out in front of her and raised it over her head as she had seen Cap do so many times. The words burst from her throat in a proud amazed shout.

"Avengers! Assemble!"

The sound of them echoing her all around her was like music. She heard all their voices, Bruce, Thor, Sam, Tony from behind his face plate. Clint just above her, Natasha and Steve to each side.

"Ronan the Accuser. The lady asked you to leave. Be polite and go," Captain America added firmly.

"Will you people not just die!" screamed Tanalth, her voice crazed.

"Not today, no," Hawkeye growled.

"Definitely get points for style, though," added Iron Man.

Ronan stared at them all, shaking his head in disbelief. "You...Terrans. More trouble than you're worth. This was a grave error all around. Keep your filthy little planet. I have better worlds to conquer."

As one, the Avengers laughed the Kree off Earth.

When the shuttle was gone from view Mockingbird handed Captain America back his shield, turned on her heel and grabbed Hawkeye by the front of his shirt. "I have twenty two minutes to live. That's at least two orgasms if we find a broom closet right now!" she yelled into his face urgently. She was still coughing blood but the shield and her tactical suit had protected her from most injuries worse than bone bruises and cuts.

"I told you she wasn't bluffing," Bruce crowed, then punched Iron Man in the shoulder. "Ow."

Hawkeye grabbed at her arms. "What? You were serious? What do we do?"

"Get naked, obviously. I'd strip here but there are still working cameras around. And himself there would freak out." She grinned at Captain America who looked utterly beside himself for a moment.

"Mockingbird, how do we cure you?" Steve snapped.

"You...you can't. I mean, okay, high speed full body plasmapheresis and blood replacement would do it but we don't even have that equipment at the Tower--"

"If I may interrupt," called a voice from behind them all. "My embassy has just such equipment. I know, for I had my staff prepare it within the hour. In case of an emergency." T'Challa loped over to the group in full Black Panther regalia, his mask up and covering his face. "But we must leave on the instant and there will be some damage to your dignity, Mockingbird. I must carry you."

Without waiting for her to say anything Hawkeye swung Mockingbird into his arms and tossed her to T'Challa. "Go, man, go!"

"We'll meet you there!" yelled Captain America.

T'Challa was already accelerating away, claws sparking on the pavement, Mockingbird thrown like a rug over his shoulder.

They made it to the Wakandan embassy in minutes and Black Panther climbed the outside wall with his claws as though walking up a stairway, hurtling through a second floor window, into an infirmary. A medical team was clustered around a complicated tangle of equipment, tubes, bags of blood and a gurney. He set Mockingbird down next to the team.

She looked around her, her eyes vague. "I'm really sorry--" and threw up on the floor. The Wakandan medical team ignored the mess, stripping off her jacket and the top of her tactical suit with snapping efficiency and hauling her onto the gurney. Limp as a doll, still consumed with the miracle that had just occurred Mockingbird lay back and closed her eyes. Not even being stabbed with multiple needles affixed to tubes and bags and sensors got a rise out of her. As the machine began cleaning her blood at a speed she didn't think was possible, she passed out, beginning to believe for a breath that she might live to see another day.

Mockingbird woke up to a darkened room, only lit by the moon from the wide window T'Challa had brought them in by and a small table lamp to one side. A figure stood blocking part of the sky, staring up, just a dark silhouette.

"Oh, Captain my Captain," Bobbi called across the space and Steve Rogers instantly crossed over to her, his strong hand touching her face feather light. 

"You're alive," he whispered.

"That's my line," she responded. "Well, or we're both dead and this is a really weird afterlife."

Steve did something he had never done before, ever. He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. There was no passion in it. Just a lingering pressure on her lips. But the shock of the contact made her gasp a little, and she laughed nervously. 

"What was that for?" she asked.

"I figured the best way to get you to believe this was real was something surprising. Would you imagine me doing that?" Steve said as he pulled over a chair.

"Good point. Never do that again, okay?"

"That bad, huh?"

"It was fine but you're my brother and I am not into incest, sport."

He snorted, sounding easy and relaxed. Up close, his injuries were either almost healed or bandaged; he was in civilian clothes, as was she. The machines were mostly gone, just an IV drip of whole blood on one arm.

"Where's...?"

"Let's see, from left to right Tony, Thor, Sam, Bruce, Natasha, Clint: getting yelled at by Pepper, get yelled at by Jane, getting yelled at by Hill, sleeping at the Tower, sitting downstairs chatting with T'Challa, eating in the kitchen with the Wakandan cook who may try to adopt him."

"Well, he's so good at eating...things," Bobbi responded suggestively just to hear Steve make a little appalled noise. She laughed.

"I...I thought you were all dead," she said abruptly, the laugh catching on a sob. "I thought you were all dead and I died too, Steve. Thank you for not being dead."

"Think we should be thanking you for saving the world, Bobbi," he said softly.

"Wasn't just me, you were all there. In my head, in my heart. I couldn't have done it without you. Even imaginary yous."

They looked at each other in the gloom and a darker note sounded between them.

"Ask me, then. What you need to ask," she said.

"You want me to ask you if you really intended to commit genocide to avenge the team? If you were really willing to release a virus into the atmosphere of Earth or any other planet just to kill the Kree?"

"Yes."

"I don't need to ask that, Bobbi. I know the answer," he smiled at her and took her hand in his, squeezing it. "This is the answer: do I think you're capable of doing that? Yes, absolutely. Do I think you would do that? Do I think you would willfully, horribly murder innocents--let alone say Carol or Noh-Varr?--out of pain and fear and rage?"

"Do you?" she whispered, looking away, afraid to see the answer on his face.

"I cannot even imagine the grief you must have been feeling. Cannot even imagine the agony you were in. But I don't think there is enough grief and pain in this whole universe to turn you--to turn you _evil_."

She cried then as he held her, murmuring comfort into her hair. "I...the virus is real but I made it self-limiting. It would have made them all incredibly sick, it might have killed some of them but it wouldn't have spread...it'll look like the anti-viral worked, cleaned it out and they'll tear their hair out trying to find the trigger on it. They probably won't even look at the virus itself," she snuffled out in time.

Steve's laugh rumbled against her cheek, through his breast bone. "You're utterly terrifying, you know that?" 

"I was _motivated_ " she snapped, deliberately wiping her nose on his shirt. She squinted up at him. "All right, tradesies. HOW THE EVER LOVING FUCK ARE YOU ALL NOT DEAD?"

Steve squeezed her closer. "It's a long story and you're not in great shape, the Kree did kind of a number on--"

He stopped when she growled at him. "God help me Rogers if you try to weasel out of this story right now--"

"Don't talk to him like that," said Natasha from the doorway. "He had a crushed skull two days ago." She and T'Challa who had come in as well casually gathered more chairs around her bed.

"For fuck sake will one of you assholes--"

"Language, little bird," came Clint's laughing voice from the hallway now and he sauntered in carrying a tray with a bowl of something that steamed and smelled amazing. Natasha and Steve helped prop Bobbi up as Clint perched on the edge of the bed, settling the tray in his lap and picking up the spoon. "But if you're a very good little girl and eat all this incredible goat stew my new best friend just made we'll all take turns telling you a story about the big bad Kree and the plucky little Avengers."

T'Challa was rubbing his face, trying not to grin.

Bobbi stared at Hawkeye balefully. "I fucking hate you so much right now. Fine. Feed me, Seymour," she declared. 

Clint lovingly spooned some of the rich food into her mouth as Steve started the tale....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stick around for the next chapter and find out how the Avengers survived certain death and who that was shooting the Kree for Mockingbird....


	6. Flip Side and "Who's the shooter?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the Avengers were doing to not be dead.
> 
> And the identity of the shooter helping Mockingbird revealed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terribly sorry for the delay here but I have an excellent excuse. 
> 
> My first original novel is due to be published this month. I was finishing the edits for that. If you're interested in reading a Fantasy novel that's like a mix of Game of Thrones and Criminal Minds, please check the "Coming Soon" page of my publisher for updates.
> 
> http://www.etreasurespublishing.com/as-a-god/
> 
> (TW: single instance of sexual assault by coercion and boy, it's really violent. Like serial murders and stuff.)

“Hang on, “ Bobbi objected, after swallowing a mouthful of the stew. “You didn’t mention Sharon earlier—did you not get yelled at?”

Steve gave her look that would have chilled a sane woman to the bone. “She’s fine. I saw her when I went to get clean clothes. She did some yelling yes.”

“And?” Clint asked brightly. “You never said why you took so long to get back.”

“She’s sleeping. She’s a little…tuckered out.” Steve turned and looked at him with a very deliberate expression on his face, cool and challenging. He did not look at least embarrassed.

“God damn it Clint, I warned you he’d figure it out. No blushing, no ammo,” Bobbi snarled. “We’re going to have brainstorm some new way to make his life hell.”

“Worth it, little bird,” Clint said, stroking his fingers across her cheek, then nodding at Steve. 

“True. Continue.”

“This is just what I remember. I woke up on Ronan’s ship…

*****

Steve coughed and gasped, a headache slamming through his skull from being choked unconscious. A hand pressed down on his chest.

“Cap, Cap, you okay?” Black Widow hissed urgently into his ear. 

He rolled over and spat a mouthful of bile and blood onto the floor. A metal floor. “Yes, I’m…where are we?” He felt motion, as of a plane or train.

“On that shuttle,” Hawkeye supplied from somewhere to his left. “They threw us into a cargo bay and locked the door. Didn’t even take our weapons. Like it didn’t matter.” His voice was bitter.

Steve sat up, looking around.The lighting was dim, the room was tiny, barely enough to fit them all. He saw the whole team…no, not Mockingbird.

“Bobbi?”

“Still down there. Got blocked by the crowd. So that’s one thing in our favour,” Black Widow said. She was leaning down over Bruce, checking his pulse. Falcon was doing the same to Thor. They looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Both of’em are breathing but they’re out,” Falcon reported. 

Tony had his face plate up and he was cursing in a steady undertone. “They’ve blocked me from Jarvis some how. I can’t even tell what they did. I’ve got my operating system but no connection to the mainframe…what? What’s that?”

He looked up and caught Hawkeye’s eye. “Your wife is a fucking genius, buddy.”

“Knew that already, what she do now?”

“She launched the orbital quinjet. It just came into short range on my systems and Jarvis punched through the block they have on me.”

Steve sat up. “Are they going to detect it?”

“No, I just put the retro reflectors on. If they haven't shot it down yet they wont now.”

“Can you shoot this thing down?” 

“No. Readings indicate it’s got heavy armor.” Iron Man paused. “There is a thing I can do but…it’s risky as all hell. There are high energy lasers on the jet, to deal with space debris. I can use them to get us off this ship. After that I can’t promise anything. And once we leave the atmosphere—five minutes, twenty seven seconds and counting—I can’t do it anymore.”

Captain America stood up, looking around. The rest of the team were staring at him. For the usual eye blink he felt the pressure of their regard on him like a physical weight, twisting his soul from the pressure. Then he centred on Black Widow.

“Analysis?” He asked her sharply.

“They planned this. Ronan wants Banner and Thor alive, for tests and a bargaining chip with Asgard respectively.” She cocked her head, her voice slowing a little. “The rest of us? Tony they might keep alive, to mine his tech. You, Falcon, Hawkeye, myself? Torture and execute publicly.”

He nodded. For a moment he paused, looking inward, weighing chances and certainties and ideas.

“Falcon, can we break out of this room?”

“Yeah. Not in five minutes though.”

“Four minutes, forty three seconds,” Iron Man supplied.

Steve shrugged. “That simplifies things.” He looked at Tony. “What do you need from us?”

“Just grab the sleeping beauties and get ready to jump.”

“Count it out.”

Tony flipped his faceplate down and nodded to Hawkeye. “Clint, get ready. I need you out first to steady the flight path. There’s only so much I do remotely, the autopilot is still gonzo.”

“What wall?” Hawkeye said, stowing his bow and swinging his arms. He took up position where Iron Man indicated.

There was a few moments of silence from the armoured Avenger and then thin line of melting metal appeared on the wall near Hawkeye. He yelped and jumped back, the sleeve of his uniform smoking.

“Sorry,” Iron Man called, not sounding the slightest bit sorry. 

Falcon and Black Widow both grinned at each other over Thor’s unconscious form. Widow had maneuvered Bruce into a fireman’s carry on her shoulders; Cap and Falcon were hauling Thor up between them.

The melt line was a rough oval now, large enough to admit even Thor. Hawkeye stepped back and kicked the centre out. With a whoosh and a sucking noise, the panel flew backwards, into a void of rushing air. Iron Man blocked for Black Widow, to prevent her from being sucked out of the room. The sheer weight of Thor kept Cap and Falcon stationary.

The metal _clanged_ off the side of the orbital quinjet and disappeared. The gull wing door of the jet snapped open and fearlessly Hawkeye leapt across the few feet of space.

The wind caught him enough that he had to grab the edge of the door and pull himself in but seconds later the frankly shaky flight of the jet went rock solid and level. It even moved closer to the opening, tilting a little to clear the hull of Ronan’s shuttle. Black Widow also flew across void, deftly avoiding knocking Bruce’s head or feet on anything.

The other three positioned themselves in front of the door, Iron Man grabbing the back of Thor’s armor. With a quick heave from Falcon and Captain America and a blast of flight repulsors the remaining Avengers catapulted into the hold of the quinjet, slamming and tumbling off the far wall.

Hawkeye didn’t even wait for the door to close fully, peeling the jet away and diving towards the earth. He really was a magnificent pilot. When the door did close the sound of gasping breath was loud in the small space.

Captain America jumped to his feet, leaving Thor in a heap on the floor. “Where are we?”

Hawkeye’s voice was distant, eerily calm, as it got when he was doing something that required his full concentration. 

“Northern China down there, I think. Saw the Great Wall when I was jumping. By the way, they figured out we’re off the ship.”

“How can you tell?” Black Widow called.

The ship snapped sideways like it had been goosed.

“Well, either that or they just like shooting into thin air,” Hawkeye responded mildly, his hands moving in light smooth patterns that threw the jet into a zig zag. They all saw the energy beams travelling past the forward view as the archer saved them over and over. 

“Iron Man, how are the tracking us with the retros on?” Steve bawled.

“They’re not!” Yelled Tony in return. “If they were tracking us we’d be atoms by now. They’re going by vectors and air flow and probabilities.”

“So, Hawkeye can just avoid them?”

“Yes…and no. Yes for now but every time he moves the ship they’ll get a new reading on our vectors, just from the turbulence if nothing else. Every reading will—shit!”

The jet shuddered with an impact to the left side and they all heard an unearthly screaming noise, as though the vehicle itself cried out in agony. 

“Took off a landing stabilizer on that side. We won’t be so much touching down as crashing with style,” Hawkeye offered.

“Worse, they’ve extended that dampening field again and I can’t reach Jarvis,” Iron Man hissed, his voice desperate and frustrated. 

“We’re far enough into the atmosphere we can bail out,” Falcon said, looking at an environmental panel near the doors.

“They’ll shoot us out of the air,” Black Widow said quietly. “Most of us anyway. Thor, Bruce…maybe you and Iron Man…might make it.”

“I can use the jet to block for all of you. When they blow it up, the debris will act like targeting chaff. Confuse their sensors,” Hawkeye said. He sounded as calm about proposing suicide to save the rest of them as he did about dodging alien laser fire. “Decide fast, guys. They’re getting my number. As one sniper to another, the person on their guns is pretty damn good.”

Captain America looked inwards again, his brain flipping through scenarios like place cards. _flick flick flick_ This one meant they’d all die, this one meant most of them, that one…killed Hawkeye but increased the rest of their chances. It was the only logical—

“I’ve got an idea. It’s a really really bad idea but if it works they’ll think we’re dead and we’ll be out of their firing range. It’s just that it’s going to blow every electronic system we’re carrying and well, we might still all die.” Iron Man raised his hand. “Like 75% chance we all bite it.”

“That’s dumb,” Hawkeye said softly. “It’s gotta be me, Tony, stop trying to step on my big moment.”

“I’m not explaining to Mockingbird that we just left you on the jet, Clint,” Black Widow said with some asperity. Clint laughed, sounding a little frightened for the first time. 

Steve smiled, his eyes clearing. “What do you need from us Tony?”

“Shove the two behemoths together. Clint, lock the steering into a nose dive and get back here. Widow and Hawkeye in the middle, like sitting on Bruce and Thor. Falcon, extend your wings and take one side, Cap you take the other. Even without the shield you’re tougher than the soft squishy ones.”

They did as they were told, bunching up into a ball of metal and leather and muscle. 

“Man, I’m glad you all shower regularly,” Clint said brightly as he laid one long arm over Natasha’s shoulders. 

Iron Man was muttering aloud, his body perfectly still inside his armor. “I added energy shielding to this jet, to deal with space junk. It was what messed up the autopilot. But I can pull it off the hull and feed it through the suit’s internal systems, along with the very basic retro-reflector matrix. The power output will overload my suit and it’ll release an EMP-like pulse. When that happens, the engines will freak out and…okay, explode. Like Clint said, the disintegrating ship will act like chaff to confuse them, we’ll have enough camouflage from the reflectors to take care of everything else. We’ll…probably survive…inside the shield bubble. I think.”

“And then we’ll be falling from the sky into god knows what terrain in god knows what country?” Captain America offered.

“Yep.”

“Shoulda let me do the heroic sacrifice thing, Cap,” Hawkeye said.

“Hang on,” yelled Iron Man as external strikes shook the ship from both sides in a growing rhythm.

There was soundlessly loud noise, a flash of light so bright it whited out all vision for a moment…and the last thing Captain America could remember was the horizon tumbling past him, Black Widow’s head jammed up against his chest from the g-force, the quinjet nothing more than scraps of burning metal as the Avengers fell from the sky.

*****

Bobbi had to stop Clint from feeding her any more food as her chest heaved with the memory. She looked deathly ill, her already pale skin going chalky.

“Your ID cards went into flatline. I was standing there listening to Jarvis call it and…” she gasped. Clint shoved the food tray at Natasha and enfolded Bobbi in his arms, his mouth against her ear. They could all hear his gentle, urgent words.

_”It’s all right, little bird, precious bird, it’s all right, we’re not dead. I didn’t leave you, like you’ve never left me. I’m here, we’re here. We’re safe, because of you, little bird, my love, my Bobbi birdie, we’re here. You helped save us, you saved the world, we’re not dead. One more day, little bird, one more hour, we’re with you, I’m with you. Love you little bird. Love you.”_

T’Challa looked away, discomfited by the raw emotion in Clint’s voice. He caught Steve’s eye and shrugged. They and Black Widow sat quietly until Bobbi had calmed herself, wiped her face, blown her nose. She looked at them with wet eyelashes, appearing as open and vulnerable as she had ever seemed.

“I wanted to die. I was angry because you’d all gone ahead without me; I was standing up to throw myself off the Tower. And then you spoke to me, all of you. In my head, you told me to stay. To fight. To finish the game. I’m glad I listened.”

“I am too, babushka. We were all terrified thinking about what you might do…”

*****

Clint crouched down in Natasha’s line of sight. “How is he?” Despite the sub-zero temperature in the snowy forest they’d landed in, Clint wasn’t shivering. Probably from sheer stubbornness. 

Black Widow looked up from Captain America’s unconscious form. “His skull is spongy in two places.. When I peel back his eyelids, his pupils aren’t reacting normally but…they’re been getting…more normal. So I think he’s healing.”

Falcon dumped more wood on the small fire they’d built. “It took him about, what, eighteen hours to heal from the last skull fracture. It’s only been six or so.”

Six hours since they’d free fallen out of the lower atmosphere, into unknown territory, screaming the whole way down. Iron Man had maintained the shield as long as he could, burning out all his systems in the process and that had saved their lives. Still, the landing had been rough. Steve had rolled Black Widow and Hawkeye in front of him, used Thor as a cushion almost. They were bruise, battered…Natasha had a broken wrist and Clint’s ribs were cracked all along one side. But Steve had take at least two vicious blows to the head, fracturing his skull. Falcon had managed to glide on his wings to an easier landing but his engines were burnt out, along with all their phones and even their ID cards.

In the aftermath, Falcon, Hawkeye and Black Widow had managed to construct a crude camp, using the super compact survival kits all three of them carried in their uniforms. They had a tiny shelter composed of survival blankets strung over bent trees; it was crowded with Bruce, Steve and Thor all unconscious inside it. In the clearing, in the fading light, Tony was poking at his suit and cursing lavishly. 

Hawkeye had gone out and hunted them a small deer which Falcon had butchered. It was roasting on the fire even now; Natasha, weary and heart-sick, thought she recognized the breed. She had a sneaking suspicion about where they had landed and while it made one thing easier, it made several other aspects of their lives harder.

“Fucking pissing hell,” Tony snapped, then looked around guiltily. “He’s still asleep right?” 

“Yes, Tony Captain America is still unconscious from his head injury and can’t scold you for swearing,” Natasha ground out. “What’s wrong now?”

“The computer system is seriously, permanently fried. In fact, I’ll make you a bet if anyone in this wilderness was camping their GPS and phones all just cut out. I bet that pulse took out all the electronics for half the continent. So no help that way.”

“Even your own Starkphones? That’s ass Tony,” Clint said in a mild voice, walking over to the deer and turning the spit. “When will the ID cards reset anyway?”

“Ah, they’re fried too,” Tony said in a distracted tone, crouching to tinker with something on the thigh piece of his suit, peeled open like a banana. 

Clint froze, then walked over and stood practically on top of the worlds greatest engineer. “So, they…flatlined? Back at the Tower?”

“Huh? Yeah, probably.”

Clint reached down and very gently grabbed Tony’s shirt, pulling him up until they were nose to nose. “Our ship blew up, we were covered in retro reflector camouflage and our ID cards flatlined. So, anyone with access to that signal now thinks we’re all dead? Including, say, Mockingbird? My brilliant, reckless, probably now suicidal wife?” His voice was soft, almost lilting, pregnant with lethal menace.

Tony’s eyes crossed for a second. “I forgot she wasn’t with us. She’s always with us. She’s not with us this time. Holy shit.” He shook Clint off. “We gotta get back to New York like now! Before she does something really brave!”

Natasha stood up, dusting herself off. She hadn’t wanted to do this but her hand was now forced. If Bobbi hurt herself before they could get back to New York…

“Falcon, you’re with me, Clint, Tony, guard the boys and stay safe.” She gathered her guns and gear and started off into the bushes. Her Widows Bite bracelets were strong and rigid enough to act as a brace on her broken wrist. Clint knew her well enough that he just nodded. Falcon trailed after her, making questioning noises.

She sighed and looked back at him. “I know vaguely where we are—I was looking at the geo readouts before the systems blew. This is Siberia. Once we find a clear space and I can look around I’ll have a better idea of where to go. There will be Russian Army bases out here, thrown into chaos by the loss of their electronics. We’re going to go steal a vehicle, drive it back here, gather the boys and force some very lonely and cold young men to take the Avengers on as houseguests till the rest of them wake up.”

*****

Maxim was not sure if he was happy or upset he’d been tapped to take the all-terrain vehicle and drive to the next base over, to see if they had communications. The base still had power—they were on the old diesel engines still—so it still had lights and heat. The cab of the caterpillar treaded truck was cold and uncomfortable. But at least he was away from Yulian and his increasingly paranoid ravings. At least it was cold comfort that he could not launch any missiles without power. 

He was keeping to the road as much as he could but they didn’t do a lot of maintenance to this feeder route between bases. It mostly passed through dense forest and sloping tundra. In the gathering gloom he’d already had to dodge several fallen trees.

A woman was standing in the weak illumination of his headlights, the sudden gleam of her blood red hair making him spin the wheel to one side. As the cabin of the vehicle skewed to one side he saw her disappear from the middle of the road. The next moment, when he’d jammed on the brakes and shuddered to a rocking halt, the passenger door opened and she was sitting next to him, all black and red and—handgun!

“Comrade,” she said in musical Russian. “Please to put your hands up so that I do not have to shoot you.”

He did what he was told, staring at her in befuddled shock. The driver’s door opened and a black man got in.

“Shift over, buddy,” he muttered in English which she translated for him. 

As they turned off the road and drove towards a thick stand of trees Maxim put two and two together. 

“Madame. You are…the Black Widow, aren’t you?”

“Da. The first and last.” She kept the gun pointed at his forehead. 

He laughed. “I have been taken prisoner by the Black Widow! By Natasha Romanoff! This is like a dream!”

The man driving said something to her in English too fast for Maxim to translate but it made her smile. 

They stopped near a stand of trees and the other two pulled him out of the cabin and handcuffed him in the bed of the vehicle. Then they trekked off into the woods. They came back with five other men, in a few trips. On one they deposited a blond man in a red white and blue suit next to him very gently. Even in the Russian hinterland they knew Captain America. The magnitude of what he was involved in made his head hurt. 

When they were all together—one of the men in a black suit carrying a bow seemed to be gnawing on deer meat—four of them had a huddle while the other three—the Captain, Thor and a small dark-haired man Maxim didn’t know—lay unconscious in the bed of the truck.

Black Widow came back and jumped up next to him, followed by the man with the bow. They flanked him, difficult to see in the near total darkness now.

“Comrade,” said the woman. “We need a place to stay until our team mates have recovered. We will also there after need a plane. Are you willing to assist us in finding these things? No one will ever find out you said anything.”

“If I say no?”

“You walk,” said the man, his accent atrocious but the meaning of his words clear. They would leave him to die in the woods. 

Or…

“You will not leave me here,” Maxim declared. He gestured at the blond man lying at his feet. “What would he say?”

They looked at each other and the man seemed to smile, though Maxim could barely see him. 

“You have us there, Comrade. So I offer you this: ever after you will be able to say the Black Widow, Natalia Romanova, the one and only, owes you a favour.”

*****

They locked the crew of the airfield into one of the bunkers, with heaters and supplies, along with Maxim who was still grinning. Then they huddled again. 

“As much as I want to take off right now, it’s going to take at least a day to bypass the computer components on one of these planes and I’m going to need herself there to translate for me the whole time. But I’m wiped out—we all are,” said Tony. “We all need to sleep and eat.”

“But Bobbi,” hissed Clint, his face a study in sick terror.

“Clint, forgive me,” Natasha said. “Either we’re already too late for her or we’ll have a little time. Maybe a day or so longer.” Her voice was clear and cold and all three of the men flinched at her words. 

“She’s right, man,” Falcon said. “I’d put my money on at least a day. If she’s going to out, it’d be with a bang and that takes time to plan.”

“I…yeah. But if we get back too late, guys…” Clint finally ground out. The other three nodded, understanding what he meant. 

“Go sleep. We’re going to need you to fly. You too, Tony. Sam and I will take first watch.”

They dispersed to the camp beds set up along one wall, Clint and Tony to sleep, Sam and Natasha to watch the three unconscious men.

Typically, Steve woke up first. He did it in a sudden rush, sitting straight up and staring around him in confused terror. He’d lost his cowl somewhere during the fall and he looked insanely young and vulnerable, like a toddler dressed up in a costume. His bruises and general air of disheveled confusion added to that.

It was morning where they were, literally on the other side of the planet from where they had been the day before. 

Sam was asleep, face down on his camp bed. Natasha and Tony were outside fixing the rather ancient supply plane the outpost boasted but Clint was at Steve’s bed before he could get up. 

He handed the super soldier some water, stale and metallic tasting.

“Where are we?”

“Some unpronounceable Red Army supply station in Siberia. You’ve got two skull fractures; lie back down maybe?”

Steve did, his hand over his face.

“Clint, did we…fall from the atmosphere?”

“Yeah.”

“With no chutes or anything?”

“Yeah.”

“Anyone dead?”

“Thor and Bruce are still out but they’re breathing okay.”

“Any word from New York?”

“We can’t communicate. All the electronics, Tony’s suit, everything here on the ground, even the ID cards—shorted out.”

“The ID cards?” Steve sat bolt upright again. “The ID cards flatlined? Sharon will think we’re dead.” And then he reaffirmed to Clint why he deserved the archer’s devotion. “Mockingbird! We have to get back to New York before she does something stupid!”

“Well we’re in luck. Tony’s got the plane working,” Natasha said from the door way. “Gather the sleeping beauties and our things. I’ll set a timed charged on the door of the bunker where we stashed the crew of this base. We’ll be gone by the time they get out.”

Clint kicked the end of Sam’s cot to wake him and left Steve to struggle to his feet, still looking sick and unsteady. The Avengers were up and in the air in twenty minutes flat. 

“This thing dosen’t have enough fuel to make it to New York,” Tony warned Clint.

“Nope. But it’ll make it to Glasgow. Natasha, get to work on a sign we can hang in the window. I’ll make a bet it’s going to get the RAF pretty excited when I land on one of their air strips unannounced.”

*****

RAF Kirknewton, Military Aiport south and east of Glasgow, Scotland

MI-13 had closed off the area once Lance Hunter arrived and assured the RAF that the fast-talking Americans who’d come off the Russian plane were in fact Tony Stark and Clint Barton.

He’d arranged for medical care for Bruce, Thor and Steve. The former two had finally woken up, groggy and sick, exactly as though they’d been drugged. Natasha quietly confiscated any blood samples the medical crew had taken by reflex. 

Steve was improving by the second, his pupils reacting to light properly again, the mushy patches in his skull firm. He still had cut and bruises—they all did—but he took charge with his usual commanding air once he gently shook off Jemma Simmons. Leo was in urgent conference with Tony and miracle of miracles they’d reset the arc reactor of his suit. He had minimal weapons but flight was back on the menu. 

Lance and Clint had their heads together and Lance was making fairly wild gestures for him. As Steve stalked towards them he heard Mockingbird’s name.

“And then Bob just smashed her damn phone. I called the Tower again and they said she’d de-magged her trackers, dropped her ID card and vanished. Carol Danvers called and said she made an appearance at the Thunder Dojo to warn them all off Times Square…uh, thirteen hours from now. Clint she had that look on her face. The one she had in Australia when she nearly killed Braddock and I.”

“The world’s coming to an end and I’m going to kick it through the door on my way past,” Clint confirmed. He looked up at Steve and though he looked calm the other man could read the frantic panic in his eyes. “We have to go, now, Cap.”

“I agree. Director Hunter, what word is there of Ronan?”

“Well, that’s the thing. The time she told everyone to stay away from Times Square? That’s the same time and place King T’Challa arranged to ‘surrender’ to the Kree. Obviously a total bloody coincidence.”

The three men exchanged an exasperated look. 

“Director Hunter, I don’t want to strain your hospitality—”

“Mate, we all thought you were dead. I had to brief the Queen—we’re at Defcon seven thousand at this point. War footing bar shots fired. If you can prevent that, I’d say we owe to to the nation to assist you with all speed.”

He gestured behind him. “You take anything here that can get you to New York in time. Leo brought replacement communicators, we’ve already called Potts and Carter and the others and told them you’re on your way. The calls to New York are lined up for all of you. I’d come along just to yell at her once you get there but I can’t leave my station. Tan her damn backside, Barton. For whatever reprehensible thing she’s got planned.”

“I’m sure we’ll get around to that eventually,” Hawkeye said. “Rain check on a pint, mate?”

*****  
They’d taken a MI-13 VTOL jet that actually fit on the Tower landing pad, which saved them a lot of time. There was just enough time for sharp, agonized, joyful reunions—at which point the fact that Falcon and Hill appeared to be dating was revealed to the rest of the team—before Pepper all but threw them back out.

“Go to Times Square! You didn’t see the look on her face!” She yelled at Tony.

Sharon touched Steve’s face silently, then looked at Hawkeye. She had a wooden box in her hand. He stared at it, gulping. 

“That serious?” He whispered.

“She told me to give it to your brother,” Sharon responded simply.

Hawkeye was out of the room and back at the jet before anyone else could move. Bruce barely made it back into the hold before he took off.

On the way, Tony activated a feed from the public cameras in Times Square and they saw and heard Mockingbird, still alive, deliberately pick a fight with an interplanetary warlord and his minions.

“Who the hell is that shooting?” Clint muttered.

“Gotta be Punisher,” said Sam with a knowing nod.

“She fights magnificently when she dosen't care about living or dying,” Black Widow murmured. 

“She always fights like that,” Steve said. He hadn’t even changed out of his ripped and battered uniform.

On the screen, they saw Mockingbird fall and then spit blood into Ronan face…and reveal her plan. And her imminent demise. 

Genocide. She had planned to commit genocide to avenge them.

“Well, that settles the question of her commitment to the team,” Tony muttered.

“Would she commit such an act? Our Valkyrie?” Thor said in wonder.

“She’s not bluffing,” Bruce said quietly. “But I bet there’s more to this. She’s like him—” and he gestured at Steve—”not one path to victory, but all paths.”

*****

“The rest you know, little bird,” Clint said. By now he’d squirmed into the bed with her and she had her head on his chest. “How are you feeling?”

“Without meaning to offend his Majesty—who saved my life—like I want to go home. Please, take me home, Clint.”

Steve and Natasha joined T’Challa in the atrium of the embassy while Clint and Bobbi gathered her things upstairs. 

Captain America bowed to the King of Wakanda in a slow, formal manner. “We owe you and your people a great deal, your majesty. For sheltering Mockingbird, for helping her with her plan even without knowing what it would be and most of all for saving her life.”

“Let there be no debt between us, Captain. You and yours leap into the breach over and over to protect the world. We who live here can never repay that.”

The Bartons made their way down the stairs, Bobbi still a little shaky on her feet.

“Mistress Barton, a moment,” T’Challa said when they reached the marble of the main entrance. “I know you dislike recognition but I have spoken to my mother, my Dora Milaje and my tribal council. They are all in agreement. Take this ring.”

And he handed her a thumb ring carved into the shape of a leaping panther, made out of a strange shiny black stone. “This marks you now and forever as ‘King’s Friend’ and welcome on Wakandan soil as though my very sister in blood. In fact, I extend that same offer to all Avengers…though I admit I only have the one ring prepared.” He smiled at them all with that easy charm of his and they smiled back.

Overcome, Bobbi took the ring and slipped it onto her left hand.

“Don’t worry,” T’Challa added. “I know you don’t wear rings. It’s the principle of the thing.”

As though releasing the tension and fear of the last two days, the Avenger’s laughter rang perhaps a little too loud.

******

Epilogue — Two Days Later, Central Park. 3AM

Bobbi, Clint, Natasha and Steve walked in companionable silence into one of the many small clearings in the huge park. It was empty, ringed with trees. The ground was covered in sparse grass and un raked dead leaves. 

“So, now do you want to explain why we’re out here?” Steve said to Bobbi in a mild voice, though he was more than a little irritated. Sharon was still in town and they’d barely been apart the whole time since the team returned from the dead.

“Want to? No. Tell you what. Give it a second. If…the person I agreed to meet here with you lot isn’t here, no harm no foul,” Bobbi said with a forced brightness. There was a sick smile on her face in the uncertain light filtering through the trees from the lone lamppost nearby. 

As one the other three spun, bristling. There was movement in the shadows at the far end of the space and a human form moved a few steps towards them.

“You were wondering who was shooting at the Kree for me? It wasn’t Punisher.” Bobbi nodded in the direction of the figure. “It was him. We made a deal, right after I left the Thunder Dojo and he tried to take your shield from me, Steve. Seemed to think I didn’t know how to use it or something. My kicking his ass disabused him of that notion.”

The man stepped into the weak light, silent as the trees themselves.

Natasha cried out, a single sharp sound of despair.

Steve started forward, hands going up, then stopped. “You’re alive,” he whispered, his voice naked with agony and hope. The hope was worse to hear.

Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, simply stared at him. Or possibly at Natasha, just to his left.

The Black Widow spun around then struck Mockingbird across the face with such furious rage it knocked her off her feet to the cold hard ground.

“Well, yeah,” Bobbi said in a mild voice, rubbing her jaw. “That was sorta what I was expecting you to do.”


End file.
